It is an overcast day as the threat of rain looms. I am apprehensive as we approach the house - it is only a few blocks from our own. A middle age blonde sits behind a card table to the right as we step into the garage. Tools from many years of gardening rest against the back wall: hoe, shovel, spade, rake, hedge trimmers .... $5, $4, $6, $8, $12. How do you decide what to charge for a used shovel? Shovels don't wear out, they rust but this one has no rust. They do need some care, sharpening, and so forth. Do you visit the nearest hardware store and gather prices for comparable tools? Do you search ebay? Is there a blue book price guide for gardening tools?
"I can let you have that for three if you really want it. It has a lot of life left in it." The blonde has snuck up behind me - only a couple feet away as I turn to meet her frantic gaze.
"Ah, oh, uhm, well, I appreciate it, just looking, I think we have plenty." I quickly replace the shovel where I found it.
I suddenly feel like I made a mistake - like I did something wrong. She notices the odd look on my face and returns to her table.
I wonder her connection to this house, to this stuff. Is there her relatives? Parents?
"These picture frames are still in the package." She beams while showing me the treasures discovered inside the house. I want to run.
"Nice, anything else in there?" I motion towards the inside of the house with one hand while my feet step to the garage door opening - to freedom.
"Some dishes and coats, nothing we need, lots of old stuff. You want to look around?" She motions to the blonde with the frames.
"Nah, I'm good." I feel ill, I really do want to run and I want nothing to do with the contents of the house. They are watching, I know it, I feel it.
I slowly return to the car as she chats with the blonde before making her purchase.
The slamming of the passenger door jars me from a stupor. My head is covered in sweat - it is humid, but not that hot.
"Are you okay?" She leans in and touches my shoulder.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm good. " I collect myself while turning the key as the truck roars to life.
"You're paler than usual, is it the heat? You want me to drive?"
"No, anywhere else you need to go?" I navigate the side streets with home the destination.
"Nah, let's head home."
"I'm not going to another one of these." I finally reveal the decision just reached.
"What? Okay, you don't like these sales? You can find some good stuff sometimes, some of it dirt cheap."
"I don't care. I'll pay full price anywhere, I'm not going to any more estate sales. I feel like a grave robber. That's how life ends? All of our stuff laid out and marked with price stickers - going to highest bidder and the rest discarded. It's horrible."
"Okay, calm down, you can stay home next time." She surveys the frames while mumbling about putting baby pictures in them.
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