Your heart is beating with a mixture of excitement and tension as you reach your hand towards the doorknob. After all, Grandma had always liked practical jokes, so you had your fair share of doubts that the secret, oh-so-great treasure she hid in the attic was actually a prized family heirloom. More likely it was something mundane or a gag object or a weird thingamajig she picked up at some thrift store.

But she had entrusted you with the key, and your curiosity had gotten the better of you. So be it, you think. Even if it is another one of her pranks, it'll be worth it.

When you finally open the door, you don't know whether to laugh or cry.

In front of you is a mirror.

You stare at your reflection in it for a good few minutes, and shake your head, a tender feeling in your chest. Good ol' Grandma. She always had the last word.