That was another thing he soon realized: treasures. Not like the ones that Mrs. Myrtle read to him about with pirates and such, but things that ones held dear. He never learned any of the treasures, but he knew what people looked like when they handled or hid them. Mrs. Myrtle kept hers in a small wooden chest, the vague outlines looked like pictures to Uriel though he never snooped, just peeked into the door now and then. And his mama's were in her room. People went through her treasures when she passed, people went through everything then. People in black and with strange eyes. They were not gone like mama's, but not alive with life either. Just hard like the stone, and Uriel knew those looks. He didn't like them, he got them in town or when people came to deliver things to the house.
Well their eyes were kinda like these, but these didn't have any threat meanness, just blank. And when he heard he was going with these hard eye people, it had once again been one of those suffocating late July days. He was forced into another stuffy suit, the one he was supposed to wear to his mama's funeral. But he had to stay at the house after Mrs. Myrtle and the tall man who owned their house yelled and carried on. He was not told why, but the man had always made his mama nervouse, making her shake when she had been alive. And now, the man had kept Uriel from his mama's funeral. But in the end, Uriel didn't care too much about going out and to the burial.
Mama had long been long dead days before when they carried her body out- Uriel had cried then and said goodbye. Mama had called him over and stroked his dark hair, curly much like her own sun-bleached blond with graying stripes. Her eyes were awake and she had been too weak to really hold the pencil. Usually, he had stayed really quiet, even fell asleep watching her at night on the floor. But tonight, she called his name in her soft voice. Soft but not faded from her eyes. And he leaned in her chair as she stroked his hair. Then he fell asleep. When the early morning sun hit his eyes, she was gone. Forever, no more hot nights and pen scratching.