The Roomates

Inspired by The SFC Prompt: The Lonely Ones

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

” Do you know what I would really like, right now even if it’s just for a little while?” The lady who lives next door to me said last Thursday.

We were in the garden watching the birds and dragon flies gliding around the flowers and trees that were in need of some attention.

” No. What would you like?”

The truth is I did know because she always brought it up on our walks. But the poor dear only ever wanted to talk about her room, which she hated because she had to share with not one but three other people.

It is pretty disgraceful situation.

” I’d like a room of my own, one that I didn’t have to share because our home is running out of space. I want a room of my own where I can paint and read and watch birds and a room of my own so I don’t have to worry if I pass gas.”

Personally I think she was only worried about the gas thing because I never saw her do anything  except for talk about how awful her situation was.

She sighed and sat down on our favorite bench. ” I want the kind of room my Grandmother had. Oh, it was so lovely. She slept under a handmade quilt that her Mother made her for her Wedding day and she had fresh flowers brought to her every morning. Her room  still smells like cinnamon.”

” The Devil you say.”  I said in disbelief.

” It’s true Mavis. Her room still doesn’t smell like disinfectant or old clothes or old people. Her room still smells like cinnamon.”

” How did she managed that?” I asked my neighbor- whose name is Daisy- in case you’re curious to know.

Daisy leaned close to me and whispered, ” I think it had something to do with the cookies she baked in her kitchen. The smell you know. She used a lot of cinnamon to mask the smell. She’d boil it in water day and night on her stove top.”

Daisy’s Grandmother  was famous in her hometown. And it wasn’t for her cookies. It was more for what, or specially who she put into her cookies-which ranged from her nosy neighbor to her children’s dog to the men she rented rooms to and robbed for their pitiful few belongings and the money they had in their wallets.

” Her brother said that smell was her mark, pretty much like the one Caine had.”

” But her room, really. You can still  smell the cinnamon from- well, from her? ”

” You still can.” Daisy said.

I shifted a little on the bench. ” So, does anyone else  use her room now?”

I suppose I was lucky. I don’t share a room but that could change at any moment because I  couldn’t imagine Mrs. Flynn, the President of the Company that owned our home and several others not using every square inch of space that she could dig up. She is as greedy as she is shifty. I can’t stand that piece of wreckage.

If anyone deserved to be baked into one of Daisy’s Grandmother’s cookies it is Mrs. Flynn.

Daisy and I looked down the rows and rows of tombstones marking the spots where the coffins below were stacked like cordwood. ” She’s all alone down there.”

I thought about that and then I said,

” Lucky Devil.”

And Daisy agreed.

Photo by Daian Gan on Pexels.com

Inspired by The SFC Prompt: The Lonely Ones

Reference Material:

Bodies to be stacked double in old graves

Coffin stacking idea in Banwell Cemetery to save space

Hanging coffins of Sagada in Philippines