It was dark and dusky, as I hid between the old bureaus and bed frames, wooden and covered in dust. The light streamed weakly in through the lace curtains, swaying in the faint breeze. Tattered with age.
They were coming for me. I was among the few remaining inhabitants, and a threat to their system. I was an anomaly and outsider, and it set a sour taste upon their tongues- the knowledge of my existence. I knew I had little time, so my mind danced and raced over all that I knew. All I could do. What should I keep? Should I even bother wasting my time mulling over objects, or simply run with my life? No, they feared me with reason, did they not? I crept over the rickety floorboards, attempting to make as little sound as I could, towards the little glass jar I had always kept near. It rested low on a shelf in the corner of the room, the thick glass coated with a beautifully cut tin filigree pattern, and an intricate lid tightly fixed atop of it. The glass was milky and old, with a coppered hue from the aged metal around it. But you could still see the yellow faintly through to the inside. That beautiful flutter of golden sun. If anything was worth keeping; worth risking what little time I had left before they arrived, it was this.