Muffin, Cousin, Cliff

In the interest of keeping this page active, here is another mystery micro-fiction, using the words Muffin, Cousin and Cliff

I sat on the edge of the cliff, with my legs dangling over the side. I stared out towards the ocean, not really seeing it. Someone mentioned later that there had been a pod of whales playing in the waves, but I didn’t notice any. I wasn’t looking, I was mentally and emotionally distracted, to say nothing of the flood of tears that would have obscured my view if I’d been interested in looking at all.

“Oi! Matilda!” I heard my cousin, Sienna calling out behind me. Please go away, I begged silently.

“I thought I’d find you up here. You don’t think you overreacted back there?”

“No.”

“Oh. Well, Craig thinks you did.”

“Craig’s a pig.”

“That’s true on so many levels.” Please please go away.

“Listen, Tilly, I know you were close to Gran, but it wasn’t that big a deal.”
“Listen, Sienna. Gran’s blueberry muffins were one of the most special memories of my childhood. She specifically made exactly twenty-four because she knew she was dying soon. She made enough for one each for her children, children-in-law and grandchildren.”

“I know that.”

“Craig knew that too.”

“Of course he did, everyone knew that. We’ve been listening to her talk about death for days now.”

“I’ve been listening to her for years, Sienna. I looked after her.” It was the first time I’d said those words out loud and I immediately felt bad for sounding ungrateful; my Gran was the whole world to me.

“I know that too, Matilda, we all know how much you sacrificed.”

“It wasn’t a sacrifice. I wanted to spend my time with Gran.”

“Ok.”

“He ate my muffin!” I heard my scream echo down the cliff and my cousin leaned back in shock.

“I know honey, but you didn’t have to knock him out.”