A wall of confusion hit him when his eyes gazed to the dusty wooden kitchen shelf as he sipped on a cup of warm, sweet afternoon tea. The same exact spot, and only spot, where his grandmother had kept the cookie jar, next to the old glass vase and vintage tea set, but it wasn’t there. His palms warmed and started to sweat, ‘where _is_ it? There’s no where else it could possibly be, unless she…’ It was now a blood-boiled panic that rushed from his head all the way down to his toes, his breathing quickened. He had to find her.

Since he was brought into this earth, nothing had come between him and his grandmother, they were joined at the hip by a bond of love, mischief and secrets. Dangerous secrets that his grandmother could tell no other soul. Maybe things would be different if he hadn’t been so observant, and greedy like any 5 year old boy, noticing and questioning her about the hidden compartment at the bottom of the white ceramic cookie jar, which she had hand painted herself with pink and yellow daisies. She always found ways to bring color, and distraction, into her life and painting had always been her favorite.

His chair screeched against the tiled floor, the remaining tea had spilled onto the mahogany dining table as he hastily made for the door to the garden.