Saturday
After arranging for the real estate agent to come take photos of the house, Aislen hired a skip bin, and began sorting through the possessions within the master bedroom. Rip the bandage off where it hurt the most, she told herself grimly as she opened the closet. She tossed clothing that was suitable for charity onto the bed, and those that were too stained, torn, or worn into a pile on the floor.
When she encountered a flannelette shirt that had been one of her father's favorites and had seemed to feature in every photo of him for the decade of her teen years, she sat on the edge of the bed clutching it to herself and wept. It still smelled like him, she thought. She put it in a Ziplock bag from the kitchen and stuffed it into the suitcase. Stupid, she told herself as she wipe
