Living London - By Kristin Vayden Page 0,3

in the social department if I had put more effort into it, but Nanna had come first, leaving little time to simply "hang out." But I wouldn't have changed anything. The time I'd spent with my grandmother was worth it. Now, with my degree finished, I could continue searching for a job in marketing. Thankfully she had left me with a large inheritance that would give me time to search for the perfect position.

With a sigh, I trudged over to my closet and selected an old Bulldogs shirt and a pair of jeans. With all the sorting of Nanna’s clothes and such, I’d just be getting sweaty and dirty carrying things to the attic or to the donation center. Nothing about the day enticed me. I'd only set my alarm for motivational purposes in dragging my rump from bed. The path to the bathroom was treacherous. I had stacked boxes in the hall when the living room filled and now I was skirting past teetering pillars of books, magazines and cardboard. My pink slipper caught the edge of a stack of magazines and sent the pile scattering. With a frustrated groan, I ignored the mess and stepped over the final box and into the bathroom.

Once safely there I studied myself in the mirror. My thick honey-blonde hair was a tangled mess that ran down my shoulders and to my mid-back. With ruthless tugs, I ran my brush through and proceeded to pull it back into a ponytail. I brushed my teeth and then glared at my makeup on the counter. All the crying from yesterday had given me puffy eyes, and no amount of makeup would hide them. After a quick mental debate I grabbed my mascara, applied it and nodded at my reflection when finished. Not my best, but better than nothing. Carefully, I stepped into the hall.

As I went down the stairs, I instinctively skipped the second step, which creaked loudly, and headed to the kitchen. After coffee—blissful coffee —I grabbed a bagel and went into the living room to sort.

Halfway through the day, I glanced around the room at the chaotic mess. The extra boxes were already used up and packed in the back of my car, yet I still had numerous piles of clothes, shoes, books and nick-knacks that remained to be stored or donated. Only small patches of the pale blue carpet were visible under the mess. With a dubious glance to the stairs, I paused and closed my eyes, hating my next task. The extra boxes I needed were in the attic, the very place I avoided at all costs. Visions of hairy spiders and old webs made me shiver and goosebump.

After a moment, I rose up off my knees. They ached in protest at my change in position and I paused, waiting for them to support my weight. I stepped over a pile of shoes and made my way to the stairs.

On the second floor I passed my room, Nanna's old room, and then the bathroom, till I reached the linen closet. I reached up and grabbed the rope that pulled down the ladder into the attic.

I took a step backwards so I wouldn't get knocked out and waited for the ladder to slide to the floor. The wooden rungs of the ladder creaked as I began to climb. As I slowly ascended, my eyes darted about, checking every shadow. I waved my hand in front of me to displace any cobwebs, and my skin crawled as I felt one stick to my finger. I jolted my hand back and wiped it on my shirt. A deep fortifying breath later, I stepped onto the landing and searched the rafters for lurking eight-legged enemies. When none were spotted, I relaxed slightly and slowly made my way to the corner where the extra boxes sat. I grabbed one and flipped it over, searching for movement. After I had repeated the process for the entire stack, I tossed them down to the hallway below.

Dusting my hands, I looked around at the upper room. Dim sunlight came through the dirty window. My recent movement had caused a whirlwind of dust motes to dance in the light. Their graceful movements stole my attention for a moment. I turned watching them and an old trunk caught my eye.

I walked over to where it rested, placed my hands over the canvas-covered wood, and lifted the latches. Inside was a beautiful ball gown, probably one of Nanna's old ones. But I