The doorbell rang one morning and Agnes had to drag herself out of bed to see who was disturbing her from her deep sleep. She checked the clock on her bedside table, eleven thirty five, it read. “Drat.” She mumbled as she walked towards the door of her humble apartment. Her head was still thumping hard from last night’s party, so you could just imagine her stubbornness as she opened the door. A deliveryman was standing outside, carrying a parcel that seemed to be from home. She rolled her eyes as she saw her mother’s handwriting on it.

“What could it be now?” she asked herself. The deliveryman handed her the parcel and she signed on the clipboard as she took the parcel. She closed the door behind her as she went back inside her apartment. She threw the parcel in the couch and dove back into bed without even bothering to open the parcel, or at least read the letter attached to it.

The clock struck two in the afternoon and Agnes was awakened by a loud screaming inside her head. She sat right up and found herself still in bed, covered with cold beads of sweat. She buried her face in her hand as she took a deep breath and wondered whose voice was it that she heard. She shook her head and got out of bed, grabbed her towel that was hanging on the wall beside her bed and went in the bathroom to bathe, ignoring the unusual scream that she heard. Sundays are often spent like this since Agnes came into the city to study in one of the most prestigious universities in the country. Lazy and droopy from all the week’s activity, she spends her Sundays sleeping all day instead of seeing her family in the rural side of the city.

The telephone rang a few minutes later, but Agnes missed it so the voicemail automatically answered the call. “Aggie,” It was her aunt Marge. “Aggie, pick up. I know your there. I have urgent news about your parents…” Agnes turned the shower off and grabbed the towel and dried herself. She turned the knob of the bathroom door and went out. “…they met an accident, Aggie. They died on the spot.” Agnes’ eyes widened in surprise as she heard the familiar voice on the line, she immediately picked up the receiver. “Aunt Marge?” Marge cried more when she heard Agnes’ voice on the other end of the line. “Agnes, your parents are gone…” Aunt Marge struggled to say over her tears. Agnes was glued to her spot, she did not know whether to stay still or cry. She absentmindedly dropped the receiver on her side; her aunt’s crying could still be heard from the open line.