with: open to all location: an estate sale on pine street when: early afternoon on a sunday
Nancy feared that she'd missed out on all the good stuff, the creaky Victorian home already picked clean of vintage fashion and worthwhile jewelry. Dammit, she knew she should've sucked it up and not slept in for once in her life. Still, she wandered around, poking at random clutter with dull fascination (who wanted a dead woman's retro vacuum?), before finally spotting the one thing that could make this entire venture worthwhile: a bed. Well, she didn't really care about the tacky headboard plastered in velvet, but the mattress. Nancy circled around the bed, pressing down on the plastic-covered surface to test the springs. If she could replace the futon at her place... Her head cocked in the direction of someone entering the master bedroom, still eyeing the mattress while asking, "D'you think she croaked in her sleep?"
She strolled in, spirits somewhat lifted at the lucky find of a ceramic pig in full clown drag, pausing to squint at what Nancy was eyeing. "Don't think she shat herself or whatever if she did", she offered. That was always in the cards with dying people, wasn't it? "'Less you mean like, if the mattress is haunted. Very Spongebob of you."





