Brenna saw the glass as half full. It was just the way she thought.

She was able to find happiness in the fact that there were no more flies buzzing around the pantry trying to feed on the sugar cookies that had been out too long.

No more getting forced into going to 6 AM church on Sunday, no long sewing lessons, pinpricked fingers, reprimanding if the finished product wasn’t perfect. No more walking on the infamous scratchy carpet and getting rug burns on your feet when forced into taking even your socks off.

Still, they wept and mourned. They dabbed their eyes with balls of already-soggy tissues. They donned hats with black netting as to cover their bloodshot eyes.

They tried to hide their sorrow from her, as if she was a weakling or an empath that would crumble.

Brenna had her closure.

Among the reassurances that those dreaded events would never occur again, she also had something else.

A memory.

There was a kitchen. And a cake. A pink cake. And pink matching balloons, all messily arranged around the room with distasteful fuchsia wallpaper.

The cake had been placed in front of her by a woman wearing a yellow dress sprayed with fat cherries. The aged fingers on the woman were covered in bandages and she winced as she set the cake down. Then the woman came next to her and quickly kissed her on the cheek and then hurried out of the room.

Brenna remembered staring at the cake not knowing what she should do with it, and having the woman come back in with wide eyes. She’d took a pack of candles out of a drawer and stuck a giant wax ‘5’ in the middle of the cake.

“Don’t you want your cake…Brenna, sweetie?”

She had still not known what to do with it.

The woman struck a match and the tip of the five burst into flames. Brenna, thinking it was gone forever, that the fire had destroyed it, wailed loudly until the woman fished out another ‘5’ and gave it to her to hold and keep.

The ‘5’ remained on her dresser for years.

Brenna tried to recall other stories to share but the others dismissed her. As though they would rather wallow in their misery than smile and think of happier times.

She eventually gave up trying to comfort them.

Not everyone could see the glass as half-full.