Umber (2)

February 22, 2012 § 8 Comments

I first saw her at an estate sale.

It was a Sunday morning in late June.  The sun was mild, the breeze was chilly, and the shadows still contained the remnants of snow banks.  I pulled onto the gravel shoulder next to a small white house, got out of the car and began rummaging through boxes of old handbags, heating pads, and neon acrylic afghans heaped along the edge of the driveway.  I wandered into the garage of the recently deceased, and began perusing the piles of ephemera at the end of a long row of plastic picture frames. A stone-faced estate sale coordinator sat behind a folding table, fiddling with a cash box.

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§ 8 Responses to Umber (2)

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