The Inheritance
The winter of 1926-27 brought a chill to Boston, but nothing was colder than the news of my grand-uncle's death. George Gammell Angell, Professor Emeritus of Semitic languages at Brown University, had collapsed suddenly near the waterfront. The doctors called it a heart lesion, brought on by age and the steep hill. I saw no reason to doubt them... at least, not then.
As his heir, I moved his files to my quarters to sort through them. Most were standard archaeological papers, destined for a museum. But one item stood out: a heavy box, locked tight. I found the key on the professor's personal ring, which he carried in his pocket until the very end.
Now, the box sits on my desk, illuminated by the flickering lamp. It feels heavy with secrets intended for the grave.