Narrator: Sheila P. | Missouri, USA
I bought a little oak chest at an estate auction. I didn’t need it. It was cheap and I had decided that morning to stop being so careful about everything.
A woman behind me kept bidding. I could hear her say each amount, very softly. The auctioneer heard her too. When I finally won, she sighed right against my ear.
I turned to make some friendly remark about getting carried away. The folding chair behind me was empty. It was folded, actually, leaning against the next one. Nobody could have been sitting on it.
On the drive home the seat belt warning came on for the passenger seat. The chest was in the trunk. I pulled over, checked the seat for a heavy bag, and found nothing.
As I straightened up, the belt slid out of its reel and across the empty seat. Slowly enough that I watched the buckle reach the catch.
I got out. A man stopped to ask if I needed help. I told him there was a wasp in the car. He stood with me for ten minutes while all the doors were open.
I sold the chest. I told the buyer the wood smelled damp, which was true, and nothing else. I’m not especially proud of that.
