I will take what is my property

Ellen P.O.V
It was the day. The 31st December, I was 22 years old. And I phoned the man (third time) to make sure this was it. IT WAS! And I headed off to my child-hood home.
The man greeted me with a handshake.

The convo went something like this:...
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‘Ellen, this is the day. The locket is yours. Keep it. You own it now. It’s very easy to use, it will tell you everything. You will figure out how to use it. I’m dying now. Give it to whoever you think deserves it before you die. Take good care my child.’

‘Wait, I thought you said it was passed on from generations of yours, I don’t want to wreck it.’

‘No dear, you won’t. It’s not generations of families, it’s a generation of people trusted, I’m leaving now. Take care, Bye.’
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The man had dropped on the floor, he looked ill, and I was sure he had been expecting death. I remember staring at the locket for sometime. A beautiful sacred memory I was to keep. I felt this happy feeling inside me. I had a duty to do. To keep what I own.