"Your grandmother. She passed on this afternoon. I am so sorry to deliver this somber message," the doctor said in a husky voice.
I clutched the phone in my hands until my knuckles grew white and pained from the strain.
"Thanks," I squeaked into the phone.
The man took a heavy breath.
"Her funeral is set in two days at L'Eglise de San Marc. This is how she planned it in her will. Will you be attending?" He asked with painful stiffness.
"I don't know," I whispered in a hoarse voice.
Tears ran down my face, and I clutched unto a bar stool for support. I shivered like a naked hobo in the middle of winter.
"Ok, well, someone will call and remind you. Have a good day," He hurriedly said before abruptly hanging up.
I dropped to my knees and buried my face in my hands. I trembled a bit before I outright sobbed. I was falling into an ocean of sorrow when I heard the front door open.
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