As a relic organizer, I received a special order:
The object of sorting is my mother who disappeared three years ago.
Her apartment remains pristine, with a yellowed note on the refrigerator magnet:
"Don't touch the wedding photos in the bedroom and leave before 7 o'clock every night."
When I was cleaning up my wardrobe, I discovered that the linings of all the coats were embroidered with the same line:
"Trust him in the blue uniform, but don't eat the candy he gives."
Finally I found my mother's diary under the bed, and the last page said:
"The rules are all fake, honey, mom just wants to keep you for a little while longer."
