Sadness
1327 Words
By midday, the house felt a little lighter. The boxes were sealed, the photo albums sorted, and the attic emptied of its haunting fragments. Cassie stood in the hallway, her arms folded as she looked around the now-barren space. The emptiness wasn’t just physical—it echoed somewhere deep inside her.
Emily popped her head into the hall, her ponytail swaying. “All set in the back room. Found like six vases. I kept the prettiest one in case you want it for flowers or something.”
Sarah appeared behind her, dust smudged on her cheek. “I vote we never do this again. My back is killing me.”
Cassie chuckled softly. “Thanks, guys. Really.”
"Anytime," the girls chorused
As they stepped outside into the bright afternoon, Asher’s car was already waiting at the curb. He stood beside it, chatting with Ken, his driver. When he spotted the girls, he waved them over and opened the trunk.
“Got everything?” he asked.
“Emotionally or physically?” Sarah asked, tossing her duffel into the back.
Asher smirked. “I’ll take what I can get.”
On the drive back, the car hummed softly. Emily leaned her head against the window, her eyes scanning the street. Sarah scrolled through her phone. Cassie sat between them, her fingers twisted in her lap.
The closer they got to Asher’s house, the more Cassie felt her shoulders tighten. The urn; she hadn’t allowed herself to think too hard about it until now. Just another errand, she had told herself. Asher had asked her if she wanted to do the homors and she had hurriedly said yes. She figured that he had done so much, the least she could do was help choose an urn. But now that she thought about it, she realised that she wasn't ready for the task. However, she couldn't tell Asher that as she had made a promise.
They arrived to find Marla, Asher’s longtime housekeeper, setting the table on the back patio. Plates of grilled chicken, roasted vegetables, and a lemon tart greeted them.
“Food!” Emily declared dramatically. “You’re a goddess.”
Marla chuckled and wiped her hands on her apron. “Sit down before it gets cold.”
Lunch was warm and easy. The sun stretched across the yard, casting gold over the trimmed hedges and glassy surface of the pool. For a little while, the weight of the day lifted. They laughed over Sarah’s terrible attempts at British accents and one of Emily’s ridiculous conspiracy theories about lemon tarts.
Cassie laughed too, genuinely. The food grounded her. The chatter soothed the ache. She was grateful for the moment.
After lunch, Sarah stretched and looked around. “Hey, Cass, what do you say we get out for a bit? Explore?”
Cassie raised an eyebrow. “Explore what? This isn’t exactly a town of wonders.”
“We’ll make do,” Emily said. “Besides, you’ll start overthinking and go crazy if you stay cooped up in your head all day.”
Cassie hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”
The town hadn’t changed much. The same mom-and-pop shops lined Main Street. The same bookstore with the crooked sign. The coffee shop still served mochas with whipped cream piled too high. Emily insisted they each get one.
They wandered through antique stores and second-hand boutiques. Sarah tried on outrageous sunglasses. Emily found a fur coat that smelled like basement and insisted it made her look like a 1920s mob wife. Cassie trailed behind them, amused and quietly grateful.
“This is nice,” she admitted as they exited a tiny spice shop that made her sneeze. “Feels normal.”
“That’s the goal,” Sarah said, linking arms with her.
"I need to pick something. Will you guys help me choose?" Cassie asked catiously. This was a private thing but she needed her friends' help.
"Sure, anything Cass," Sarah replied.
"What would you like to buy?" Emily asked.
"Uhm... An urn for my mom's ashes," Cassie said.
"I saw some displayed on the other side of the street," Emily said. "Let's go."
Cassie was grateful for Emily's sharp eyes. She could not imagine walking into different stores, asking if they sold urns. It was nothing to be embarrased about, it was jus uncomfortable.
They arrived at the small memorial store tucked near the cemetery gates. The woman behind the counter gave Cassie a gentle smile, as though she already knew who she was.
“Take your time,” she said kindly.
The store was small and quiet, filled with urns of all shapes and materials—ceramic, marble, brass. Some were modern and sleek. Others looked like something from another century.
Cassie ran her fingers along a silver one with soft etchings of leaves. “Mom always liked nature,” she murmured.
Emily stepped beside her. “She’d love that one.”
Cassie nodded, and something tightened in her chest. The laughter from earlier dissolved, replaced by a hollow ache. She stared at the urn, the reality finally, fully sinking in.
She wasn’t just choosing a keepsake. She was choosing the last home her mother would ever have.
Her breath hitched, and she blinked hard. But the tears came anyway, quiet and sudden.
Sarah was at her side instantly. “Hey, hey, come here.”
Cassie let herself fold into her friends, their arms wrapping around her like a cocoon. She didn’t sob. It wasn’t loud. Just a few hot tears, pressed into Emily’s sweater, a small crack in the dam she had held since the death of her mother.
“I miss her,” she whispered.
“We know,” Emily said softly.
"I know we were not best of friends but I miss her," Cassie repeated.
“It’s okay,” Sarah added, rubbing her back. “You don’t have to be strong all the time.”
After a few minutes, Cassie stepped back and wiped her face. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“Don’t you dare apologize,” Emily said firmly. “You’re allowed to break down.”
Cassie sniffed and gave them both a watery smile. “Thanks. Both of you.”
She chose an urn that had her mother's favorite color and nature. It was beautiful. She paid for it and the clerk offered her condolences again before wrapping it carefully.
The ride home was quiet. Sarah dozed off in the front seat, and Emily played soft music from her phone. Cassie stared out the window, the urn box sitting gently on her lap. Her thumb traced the edge of the lid as she thought of her mother’s laugh, her scent, the way she used to sing while folding laundry.
She wasn’t ready to say goodbye tomorrow. But she would do it anyway.
When they arrived back at Asher’s house, the sun had just dipped beneath the horizon, painting the sky in hues of mauve and gold. Marla met them at the door and offered dinner, but they all declined.
Too tired.
Too full of emotions.
Cassie took the urn to her room and set it gently on her dresser. Then she changed into her pajamas and went to brush her teeth before joining her friends. Emily and Sarah were already curled up in the guest bed, chatting softly. They had decided to sleep in one bed, to offer Cassie comfort.
When she slipped into bed beside them, the room was quiet and cool, the only sound the faint hum of the ceiling fan above.
They didn’t say much more.
They knew tomorrow would be hard for Cassie and that they would have to carry her through the final part of saying goodbye. But tonight, there was rest. There was the quiet bond of grief shared and soothed by love.
Cassie closed her eyes and let herself drift. And this time, the dream world closed its door tight.
- Writer
