The pair walks in looking at all the simple antiques and posters on the wall. Each little object has something to do with someone or something special. The old lady takes a seat in a big brown chair that continues to suffocate her with it's cushions.
"Ma."
The old lady doesn't respond.
"Ma."
No response.
"Damn it you"—she grunts—"Honey, can you please watch after your grandma? I totally forgot I had jury duty today. Sorry. Ma, if you can hear me I'll be at Town Hall, ok?" She quickly grabs her keys and rushes out the door. The awkward tension between the old lady and the granddaughter grows bigger than their age difference.
"So," she tries to strike up a conversation "I have this project and—"
"Sit down." the old lady demanded.
"Oh ok." she leans onto the old velvety carpets.
"If you're here for my will, let me bless you now so I can die."
"Oh! NO! We're not here for that!"
"We? Who's we...?"
"Me and my Mom, remember? We visited you?"
"Oh yes certainly. My apologies." she grabbed a tissue and blew her nose.
"Ok. So, I'm here to interview you about your life story for a project. Tough isn't it? No family, no friends, no memories!" She let out an awkward laugh.
"Yeah. No. You want the real truth?"
"Huh?"
"Sorry. What did I say?"
"You asked me if I wanted to know the truth."
"Oh yes, the story of my life."
"No— Sorry a significant event?"
"Oh... Ok"
She whips out her journal as her grandma starts writing. She jots down fast enough that her grandma does not have to repeat as much. They continue talk and listen.
