estate.
(published in MARY: A Journal of New Writing, Spring 2012) "Do we just go in?" Kevin asked. "I think so?" I said, unsure, as we slowly walked up the brick steps. The front door was open behind a glass storm door, and we looked in. A woman standing in the kitchen looked up at me, and I smiled and awkwardly gestured to the door. "Come on in!" she shouted, and when we walked in we saw two women sitting on a couch, another sitting at a table behind a cash box, and stuff everywhere. "Everything's for sale, upstairs, downstairs, and basement. Let us know if you have any questions," the one behind the cash box told us. Kevin and I looked at each other, trying to act like this all felt completely normal and not weird at all, to be walking through a [presumably deceased] person's house, looking at price tags. We were really only there to see if we could find an old chair to add to our mismatched dining set, completely furnished wit...