HEIRLOOM

Chapter 14

He strides into the room and hands me a weighty bag before plonking down on my bed.

"Be cautious!" He hollers warily, observing me flitting the bag between my hands. "Don't crack the mirror!"

My form tapers into stillness, my fingers clenching tightly onto the satchel.

"I obtained it from an old acquaintance! This morning, a memory of Jeff cropped up in my thoughts! He once recounted to me about inheriting a silver-framed mirror from his granddad, who had received it from his great-grandmother. One can only fathom how long back that was. If it were me, I would never trade away such a precious family relic. But it wasn't a strenuous affair; I offered him a pittance, and he reverted with consent."

"How much do I owe you?" I inquire, rising to my feet and sifting through the recesses of my back pocket for my wallet.

"Are you out of your mind? It's nothing!" Alex exclaims in disbelief, his eyes wide with surprise at my offer to compensate him. "Just do your work and get rid of that damned creature!"

I chuckle lightly, reassured by his response. "Well, I appreciate it nonetheless," I reply, thankful for his generosity.

"In any case, I am indebted to you," I counter with a sincere smile, emptying the contents of the weighty bag onto the floor, simultaneously recalling the sequence of my next steps.

The sun wearily descends beneath the horizon, a fiery disc hovering over the crimson skyline, framed by smoky clouds with edges tinted in gold. The dimly lit room is rich with the scent of straw smoke, a vestige from the just-harvested fields carried in by a cool gust through the open window.

From the depths of the bag filled with long, thick black candles, a glimmer catches my eye, drawing my attention like a moth to a flame. As I delve deeper into the depths of the bag, my fingers brush against the textured edges of a round frame crafted from silver long ago,that has lost some of its lustre over time.

Gently lifting it out from its confines, I gingerly place the mirror onto the ground beside me. Its surface glistens with an inky blackness, a result of Alex’s careful handiwork.

My attention is momentarily diverted to the intricate details of the frame, expertly etched with delicate, floral embellishments that testify to the skill of the craftsmen who fashioned it. Despite the silver's discoloration, the frame remains an undeniable work of art. My thoughts briefly wander to the potential value of such an item on the antique market, but the dire situation at hand quickly dispels such musings.

"Are you alright?" Alex questions with a hint of concern, his eyes focused on my demeanor. "I tried my best with the coloring, but the damn color wouldn't adhere properly to the scratched surface. In the end, I poured a thin layer over it and let it dry. I think it worked out well, though. Just take a look at it!"

"I am fine, thank you. You have done an excellent job with the coloring," I reply warmly, wrapping my hands around the round frame once again and observing the glossy black coating covering the surface.

The joyful peals of children's laughter, underscored by the rhythmic creaking of swings, reverberate softly in the yard. Once again, I mentally review the algorithm of actions that I must follow. The old man's warning echoes in my mind, "In no way touch it with your bare hands!" 

Then I pack my belongings into my backpack, carefully tucking the sickle, already wrapped in paper, into its depths. Taking a water receptacle, I make my way out of the house, walking beside Alex.

Outside, a small bonfire illuminates the gathered members of Alex's family, and Gabriela, sitting together in jovial conversation. The children prance and frolic about the lawn, chasing after little puppies and rolling in the soft green grass.