Umber (13)

March 6, 2012 § 1 Comment

I found myself driving down the same street where I’d seen the estate sale the day before.  As I approached the small white house, I decided that, although I had barely started sorting through all those pictures in the cardboard box, it wouldn’t hurt to see if there were any more photographs that I’d overlooked at my first visit.  When I got there, the stern-looking estate sale coordinator was still sitting behind a card table, shuffling through the cash box.  I asked, “Do you have any more old photos?”  She jerked her chin in the direction of a battered-looking trunk.  To hide my eagerness, I paused to look at baby clothes and vhs tapes before nonchalantly ambling over to the trunk.  The lid was open, and I could see that it was filled with photographs, envelopes, newspaper clippings and scraps of wrapping paper.  A sign stuck to it with masking tape said “$20 all.” 


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