It wasn't long until Daisy had finished her drink and left the coffee shop; she'd realised that just because she had spent most of her time there when she was young, it didn't mean that she still liked it now. It had too many young teenagers inside.

Besides, she'd already received the answer to her question, even if she didn't understand it. All the confusion and thinking had now brought on a small pounding in her mind; with all the 'excitement' she'd forgotten about her cold. It had definitely died down a little, but it definitely still existed.

She figured that she'd just go home now and relax on the sofa. There was nothing she could do about the house now, so why stress herself out?

It wasn't like she had an abundance of things to do here in her old town, most of the people she used to know had become different people. They probably wouldn't even recognise her, she supposed that she had changed quite a bit.

Maybe she'd try to find her phone and text them, it wouldn't take much effort.

After considering it, she decided against it though, she didn't want to dig up old ties and disturb someone's life.

As though arriving home in no time at all, her thoughts allowing her to time travel, she tugged open her bag and fished for the rusted keys. When she finally managed to wriggle open the door, she was hit with the strong smell of dust that she must have missed earlier.

There was some serious cleaning to do here, and it looked like her relaxation would have to wait. It wasn't like her cold was going anywhere, she could treat it later.

Changing into more comfortable clothes, Daisy couldn't decide whether to vacuum or polish her grandmother's knickknacks first.

Eventually, though, she came to the conclusion that vacuuming after would make more sense, or else she'd just be getting more dust on the floor.

Then she started on the cleaning; polishing, cleaning all of the windows, vacuuming, mopping. Daisy even wiped down her grandmother's leather sofa.

Thinking that all her cleaning was done, Daisy went to then rinse through all of the rags that she'd used to polish. Her cleaning was certainly not done.

The kitchen sides were caked in unwiped dust, the silverware that her gran had prized was now a matte grey with dirt. She almost forgot that she still needed to clean through the fridge.

After rinsing out the dirt from the living room, she used the cloths to then banish the lingering dirt in the kitchen- fridge and all. Daisy then repeated the whole 'Vacuuming, mopping, polishing' method once again for the whole room.

Knowing she wasn't done yet, Daisy's mind wandered to the upstairs of the house. Her grandmother was quite old by the time she'd passed, Daisy knew that there was bound to be mountains of dust, dirt and uncleaned carpets.

So there she went, she travelled up each set of stairs, hovering as she went, polishing where necessary.

A few hours later, Daisy decided to take a break in her much-needed cleaning to feed herself, and judging by her rumbling stomach, Daisy knew that feeding herself was the main priority, one that she'd completely forgotten about. Luckily, she still felt quite ill after working so hard, so she didn't really need that much to eat.

-

Sitting alone in the kitchen of her lost grandmother, Daisy sighed. Without her Gran there was nothing to do here, there were only so many rooms that she could clean before she started to feel lonely.

Scooping up the tomato soup that she'd found in a tin inside the cupboard, she paused to blow it before allowing the silver spoon past her lips. For some reason, Daisy had used her Nan's best china and silverware for a tinned can of soup. She felt it was right though, she'd only ever used these before in times of celebration, but with her being alone she wanted to remember all these times. She wanted to remember her lovely grandmother through those celebrations, instead of mourning her loss.

Getting restless in the kitchen, Daisy picked up her boiling bowl and rushed into the living room. She wasn't normally allowed to do this here, but it was different now. Her gran wasn't here to complain about the mess she might make, and even if she did make a mess: she would be the one to clean it up anyway.

She allowed herself to get comfortable on the sofa and used a pillow as though it were a tray for her bowl, it was way too hot for her bare knees.

It didn't take too long for Daisy to polish off the soup, and even a few bread rolls that she prayed were in date.

Eight thirty at night was when Daisy was usually in bed, with her laptop, watching old reruns, so when she glanced up at the old clock, she realised that she was way past her bedtime, and she still had another floor of the house to clean.

No, she decided. She couldn't just leave that floor. It'd annoy her too much. she was going to finish the cleaning then go straight to bed.

Standing and stretching, she picked up the dirty bowl and spoon and popped into the sink in the kitchen, she would wash that later. What was important now was getting everything done.

Climbing the stairs, she skipped the first level. She already knew that level like that back of her hand and had cleaned it before her food. Her grandma's room was there, a bathroom and a spare room. She travelled to the second floor. This was where she was going to have to clean.

Walking through the long hallway, she passed a couple rooms: spare bedrooms, that didn't look interesting at all. She was planning to start at the end of the hall and clean her way back downstairs, then go to the top floor and into her bed.

Dragging the vacuum, cloths and polish to the end of the hallway, she stopped head at the sight of a man.

It seemed to be a picture taken of a man.

No, this was no picture.

This was a magnificent oil painting. Each stroke seemed to be carved into the canvas, completing the picture a little more than the last had, building the powerful image of a man among many others. He didn't seem to be just any man, though, the painting made that clear.

He had a stark white shirt on, one that they wore for important gatherings in older times, with puffy sleeves and puckered collars. The flower-like puckered collar framed a breathtakingly gorgeous sapphire stone hanging from his strong neck.

He was beautiful, and Daisy knew that before even gazing above his shoulders. They seemed strong like he'd had the world on them and could carry it with no issues; and judging by his sense of style he'd had the world at his feet too, along with all the women.

Raising her hand to the painting, she allowed her fingers to lightly trace the gorgeous sapphire hung around his neck and followed the chain upwards towards his chin.

He was a pale man, from what she could tell by the painting, barely any sun seemed to have touched his luscious skin. His jaw was sharp and chiselled, no sight of a double chin anywhere like there wasn't an ounce of fat on his body.

His cheekbones were sharper. Carved differently than the others in the painting, he was clearly faultlessly masculine. He was well kept, no shadow of stubble dwindled on his face, but his hair was different. It was strange. His hair hadn't been drawn with oil paint, like the rest of the painting. It matched his cheekbones, painted with a texture that Daisy couldn't quite put her finger on.

Once again allowing her fingers to trace the painting, she felt the smoothness of the hair as though it had been painted with chalk. But chalk couldn't be that masterfully handled.

His eyes were the most gorgeous. Even if they hadn't been the first thing to catch Daisy's eyes, they certainly were the things that had them glued. They were green. No, they were jade- No, they were...there were no words for how green they were. Brighter than an emerald. They were two green garnets among dark, drab normal eyes. No jewels seemed to do them justice.

Then another thing caught her eye. It was as though the more she looked, the more she discovered. There was a small tile on the floor the painted man seemed to be standing on that looked strange. It was painted differently, like his hair.

Checking to feel if it was smooth, Daisy lifted her hand again, she pressed onto the painting. She'd pressed harder than she should have, and was terrified by the dent left in the painting.

What was she to do? She couldn't fix that, it looked too ancient to just be super glued back together.

She had no idea how old that painting was, or how much it was worth, but she knew that it was old. Somehow, though, she knew it had less worth now.

Sighing, she turned from the painting. She should have been more careful with her Gran's possessions, these things would be priceless.

Knowing that she should go down the stairs and pretend this never happened, that she never found and admired the painting so much that she ruined it, she turned her back towards the painting and began lifting the vacuum up to use.

Turning back for a quick glance at the painting, it was still there. still magnificent.

Sadly, still broken.

Swearing to herself, she pushed her fingers into the on the button and began cleaning the old carpet. Everything went to plan for a while, becoming clean while hoovered, like any other carpet.

But then, the hoover passed over a strange bump in the carpet. Once Daisy had noticed the bump, she wondered how she'd never seen it before.

What was that?