Your estate, organized by spoons, sweaters, silver. I’ll finish the fusilli ($1) you planned on eating later. I’ll wear your motorcycle goggles ($10) while washing my new tea cups ($4), then hang a tile, painted with moon, stars, and love for you when I was six ($.50).
All good buys.
This is Alexandra’s tenth fifty-word story. She wishes death could always be preceded by goodbyes.
The man in the green sweater sold memories from a pasting table.
The girl with the red shoes delighted in sifting through the echoes of his past.
Highlight reel playing, he let the monuments to her life go cheaply, their glorious triumphs intact.
The real treasure remained hidden, buried.
Jon is from the North West of England, works in local government, with a background in Newspaper Journalism. He is currently experimenting with short fiction and other forms of creative writing.