STOP (297 words)

I had come to stay with grandmother shortly after grandfather died. She didn’t want me here, but mother had insisted. “At least for a few weeks,” she had said. Grandmother told her she didn’t need anybody and didn’t much like me. Grandmother had always been cranky. I obeyed my mother, as always, and arrived at grandmother’s house last Saturday. “Might as well come inside,” she had said, before pointing, without another word, toward the room in which I would be staying. Five minutes later, grandmother had turned out the lights. It wasn’t even dark yet.

Things were a little better in the morning. At least she fed me. After a few days, we settled into a routine. Mostly, a very boring routine. There was one interesting thing: every night after dinner, we would sit in the living room and watch Wheel of Fortune. During the commercials, grandmother would whisper, “his heart stopped.” She was not speaking to me. She was addressing the room. Grandfather had had a heart attack, so I thought I understood.

Sometimes, she would stand and turn in a circle while humming some tune I knew, but could not place. Then, she would walk over to her curio cabinet and examine the contents, lovingly displayed on white lace doilies. Along with the ceramic figures and silver plates was a small painting. It was of the carousel at the old county fairgrounds. Tonight, she brought the painting to show me. “We met here,” grandmother said, pointing. “He told me when he saw me, his heart stopped.” I realized there were tears in her eyes. “He is waiting for me at the carnival. I’m ready to go ride again,” grandmother said. She carefully placed the painting back in the cabinet, returned to her chair, and died.

(297 words)