The ornate border and printed calligraphy told her this was a marriage certificate. Her parents,' she assumed
Michal glanced at her brother; he was pragmatic like that. She looked around the room. It was hot and stuffy, the window AC made too much noise and didn’t work right. They sat on the floor opposite each other, the gray mottled carpet from their childhood beneath them, the stuff their mother had left behind when she finally moved, thrown haphazardly on every surface.
“I want to go through everything, just in case. Don’t want to miss out on something.” As if their mother would have left anything of value before she ran off to Boca and guilted her kids into doing “one last favor for your only mother.”
“Be my guest. I’m leaving at three, like I said I would. So if you want more help, know you’re declining it now.”
“I know, I know.” Michal laughed him off.
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