Six Vintage Dresses Left in a Cedar Trunk on Oak Street

against her phone screen, the rapid click-click-click filling the small office. A half-eaten turkey sandwich sat on a paper plate near her keyboard.

“Martha, what brings you by?” Clara asked, her voice high-pitched and quick. “Do we need to sign something for the appraiser?”

“I was just looking into the farm sale details,” I said, sitting in the vinyl continue reading …