The Brown Case

I didn't know there was paperwork.

What I knew was this: my mam had told me two different times. Two different answers to the same small question, across the years. Not something you forget.

And I knew there was a brown case in the loft.

We all knew about it. It had always been there — Mum and Dad's stuff. Nothing to do with us. No need to go in it.

I believed that. For a long time, I believed that completely.

Today I went to the loft.

The case was there, exactly where it had always been.

It turns out it had everything to do with me. 🌿