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I headed back to the house a little relieved and feeling generally good about myself.The next morning we had the funeral. The entire day was a sad ordeal. I soon realized how much I hated seeing my mom and aunt cry. My dad had an arm around my Aunt, but her shoulders still shook hard. I didn't feel like crying but watching my mother sob broke my composure, and I could feel my eyes watering. My cousin was sobbing uncontrollably, and I was glad her friends around her. She had always been daddy's little girl, and now she was reeling, having seen her father's casket buried. We stayed there hours after the funeral had ended, and I couldn't help but contemplate all the changes death brought.On the way back home, my father and I talked about what he had said yesterday. I had given it very little thought, considering he had been a little tipsy, but now I saw he was earnest. We had a long discussion about how it might be useful if I stayed with my Aunt for a few weeks, and I couldn't help but. I was hungry. It was another sensation to sort out among the many newones I was experiencing, but at least this one was familiar. I satisfiedmyself with some bread and an apple. I was safe, but I was stuck; powerless if I stayed, vulnerable if I left,lacking key information to help my know what to do next. I paced the mainroom, I looked out of windows, I explored the house. There was little todiscover. The main room revealed no secrets. The kitchen was ordinary:the usual stove, sink, refrigerator, cupboards; nothing of greatinterest. I wandered back into the bedroom. A tall wooden wardrobe stoodin a corner of the bedroom, the only door I had not yet opened. I had been a warrior and an adventurer. I had explored many places,risked much. But I had no clue of the incredible, life-altering dangerthat was waiting for me in that wardrobe. Innocently, unknowingly, Iopened the doors, little suspecting what was lurking within: a full-length mirror. I saw myself there, for the first time since.
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