“It’s thirty bucks, ok? Take it or leave it.”
I stood there, looking at the urn. I had been so caught up in looking at it that I hadn’t heard what the man was saying to me. It was nice and definitely antique. I couldn’t tell how old it was exactly, but it seemed at the very least a few centuries old. It drew me in somehow, almost as if it was telling me to buy it. Given the price it was originally going for, I knew I wouldn’t get it better than thirty.
“Fine,” I said, smiling. “Thirty dollars. Let me get that for you.”
I got out my wallet and gave the man my money, with a grin on my face and a somewhat confused look on his.
“Forgive me if this is too forward,” I said, “but why are you so eager to get rid of this? I mean, this is clearly a very nice urn— I mean, you know, it just looks really nice. Why are you hucking it at a garage sale?”
“Honestly?” the man said. He looked around, then leaned in closer to me. “My wife hates it. She moved it to our attic a few years ago and wouldn’t go near the damn thing. I kept telling her to just put it out in the open to at least, y’know, see what it looked like in our house, you know? She wasn’t having it.”
“So you’re just selling it out here?”
“I figured someone else would like to have it. And, what do you know? I was right.”
I smiled, looking down at the urn in my hands. “You sure were. Thanks again.”
“No problem,” he said.
I got back in my car, putting the urn in the passenger seat and buckling it in. It looked strange sitting there, buckled, as if it was another person. I put my jacket over it so I wouldn’t have to look at it and drove away.
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