Nov 17
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  The chair haunted me, it was in my dreams, when I woke up, everyday, all day, and of course at exactly 3:30 in the afternoon when the big yellow bus dropped me off, it was displayed ever prominently in my mind. When I had to look up at the the porch, that should make me feel good memories of barbecues and relaxing in the summer sun. Instead my eyes were trained to focus on the old wood, skimming over the playthings that lay strewn haphazardly in a jumbled pile. Until I came across the marks where the chair had once stood. When I saw that porch at 3:30 I wasn't just reminded of the chair but the events that had transpired in it. I was just 8 years old at the time, and was being watched by grandma. When I came home grandmother Alice, was sitting as always in the old rocking chair on the porch. I gave her a hug and went inside. I took some cookies I had made earlier with my big sister, and set them in front of her.
    “We made you some cookies,” I told her, shyly.
   “Why thank you dear, how kind,” she replied.
    I left her to it, I was notified of my mom's arrival home by a scream from outside. She was bent over my grandma, silently crying. She was shaking her, slapping her, but my grandmother's body remained limp. Then a cookie fell out of her mouth, and landed on the chair. My mom didn’t noticed it and rubbed it into the chair, so that there was a stain from the jelly filled center.
 She rounded on me, “what happened!” she demanded.
   I stared at the stain in the chair, and whispered,“she choked.”   
   The cookie stained chair where my grandmother had died tormented me.  
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