Stan waited patiently. The queue of predominantly middle-aged couples crept forwards towards the huge, oak double doors. The shopping bag weighed heavily in his right hand.
“It’s only a piece of rubbish”, Dotty had said. “Ghastly rose pottery nonsense. I should have thrown it years ago. Why waste your time taking it there?”
His turn came. The was a slight intake of breath. Production staff with walkie talkies squawked. A table and chairs was hastily set up, cameras were positioned, an expert came from makeup.
History, analysis, the final question. How much?
And then the drive home. What to do?
100 words, excluding title © Robert J Curtis February 2009
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