“Mum and Dad built this place after the war,” Muriel said. “Lived in the garage, while they built the house.”
Captain Clean was very tempted to add that nothing had been thrown out since, but bit her tongue. Condescending self-righteousness never worked with hoarders. So, she stuck to the script.
“Keep or throw? Keep or throw?” “There you are,” Muriel smiled.
Captain Clean screamed, bolted and drove away.
Muriel had finally found her spare set of teeth, playing hide & seek in her husband’s old shoes.
“I could’ve handled a dead body,” she told the psychologist. “But not false teeth.”
This has been another contribution to Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wishoff Fields. PHOTO PROMPT © Sarah Potter