"Grandmother, you called for me?" Mary took a step inside, the old lady's back was on her as she looked out the glass window.
"Yes, I suppose you can say that. It is true, I did call for you," the old lady agreed, her calm voice reminded her of the peace before a storm.
"Come in and close the door," the woman added as she faced her finally.
She did as she was told and locked the door behind her, her feet glued to the floor as their eyes met.
"Sit down, child," the lady motioned for her to sit as she took the space on the sofa parallel her.
"You know, I have always considered you as my grandchild. The first time I saw you, my heart leaped with joy. It is because I only have one grandchild at that time who happened to be a brat," the old lady continued, stirring a cup of coffee with a spoon and handing it to her.
She took it from her and stared at the cup she placed on her lap. It was as if somehow the cup has become more important than anything else in the world.
