She swayed back and forth in her grandmother’s antique rocker where comfort was always taken and given and spirits lifted but now her gaze adrift, averse to watching their violations as they compressed, stuffed, cajoled eighty-five years of memories into a few tiny cardboard boxes and she swayed back and forth rocking, rocking beyond their notice, rocking while they went on packing and stuffing and when they said they were finished she was not rocking anymore.

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