These letters felt like my mother’s murmurs to me that had transcended time and space, giving me warmth and strength that I had never known before.
I realized that I wasn’t in this battle alone. My mother’s spirit had always been by my side, guiding me forward.
After I had wiped away my tears, and my vision was no longer blurry, I rummaged through the contents of the contents of the metal box to look for more clues, and I found them.
I was surprised to find a receipt for a pledged item with clear writing on it in the box. I headed to the address written on the receipt and found myself in an art gallery.
I didn’t expect to be led to a place that was also an art gallery, and for it to still be in business after so many years was definitely good news to me.
All of my questions might be able to be resolved today.
“I want to meet with the owner here, please. I’d like to ask if they still remember this receipt.” I handed the yellowed receipt to the front desk.
Her gaze lingered on the receipt for a while, looking curious yet with a hint of nostalgia. She replied softly, “Please give me a moment, I’ll check.”
Shortly after, a middle-aged man walked out from the inside. He wore a simple but classy button-down shirt. His eyes held a discerning yet penetrating stare of an artist. He took over the receipt and looked at it closely. He then had a look of realization on his face.
“This receipt is pretty dated indeed. Are you… the artist’s next of kin?” He looked at me and asked carefully and respectfully.
I nodded. An unexplainable excitement arose in my heart.
“Yes, I’m her daughter. I’ve been looking for clues that would point me to her for all these years. I stumbled upon this receipt and it seemed to have pointed me to this place.”
The art gallery owner heard what I had said and his expression softened. He gestured for me to follow him into an office deep in the art gallery.
There were all kinds of drawings hung in that office. Each one of them seemed to tell a different story.
“I was saddened by Hilda’s passing all those years ago, but a few of the drawings that she sold are still here with me.”
My mother’s name was Hilda Monroe. She didn’t have a very unique name.
However, since my mother had a gentle, soft-spoken voice like the late Marilyn Monroe, she was called Hilda Marilyn Monroe as a joke.
“You knew my mother?” I asked anxiously. My heart started racing like I had discovered a dated, dusted secret.
That man smiled faintly as nostalgia filled his eyes.
“Of course. Ms, Hilda Marilyn
Monroe was a frequent in my art gallery. Her art was filled with a deep emotional and soulful depth and was often unforgettable. However, her sudden disappearance shocked all of us, and we felt like it was such a shame.”
He walked to a piece of art and caressed its mantle. He continued, “This was one of Hilda’s art
pieces-Town in Morning Glow. This was also the last piece she had left with me. Every time I saw this, would be reminded of how her eyes were always filled with unspoken stories.”
As I walked toward that art piece, I saw a peaceful little town on it. As the morning sun broke through the horizon, the golden rays scattered beautifully onto the rooftops,
coating the picture with warmth and wonder. .
Kon
“However, since Hilda and I came from the same town, our relationship was more than just business. We grew up together.”