Hastily with her feet stomping on the muffled fur rag that run across the hallway, Morgan led the group to a quiet room with minimal furniture, only three chairs were available, yet Morgan did not care that it was less than the people in the room.
She did not send for any new furniture and simply sat in her chair, gazing on her company as if they were insects.
"Rebecca you can have a seat; I do not want you fainting because you stood for too long. We would not want to hold a second funeral now, would we?" Morgan's voice was smooth yet full of sarcasm.
A scoff came from grandma Mayfair before settling in one of the chairs. "Do not worry yourself about me, I am in perfect health, my funeral will not be held for another eighteen years at least. Don't let this walking cane fool you, it's a weapon that I use to strike old blabbering fools that think they can outsmart me." As she spoke, her eyes remained fixed on Morgan as if to say that she was the old blabbering fool.
