She brushed aside the gossamer as if it were a fine curtain. She hadn’t been here since his death. Now that she was putting the house up for sale, it was time to clean out the shed that had been Darren’s ‘man cave’.
Rebecca pulled the chain above the door, sending only 30 watts of light to light the corners of the 10′ by 10′ space. She watched dust particles rise, greeting the bulb as an old friend.
She knew she shouldn’t idle long. Bill would be by soon to haul away what wouldn’t be going to the new house.
Her eyes adjusted to the low light and she looked over the room, taking in the beat up orange sofa, the walls covered in posters from classic movies, the mini-fridge that was likely still filled with cans of Guinness. She did a quick inventory of the knick-knacks lining the crooked shelves along the east wall. She had never understood Darren’s affinity for what he called his garage sale treasures. To her they were junk. Especially the hideous needlepoint of a frog smoking a pipe that stood between a faded Statue of Liberty and an elephant on roller-skates
Darren had insisted the needlepoint had once been made as a gift for someone. Someone who was ungrateful enough to sell it to him for fifty cents at a garage sale shortly after their wedding. He was always saving what others had given up and discarded as trash.
Which was, perhaps, why he’d been attracted to Rebecca in the first place.
Write at the Merge prompt: For this week, your inspiration comes from two words (you are not required to use these words, though you may): Gossamer: noun; a fine, filmy substance consisting of cobwebs spun by small spiders, which is seen esp. in autumn. Affinity: noun; ( pl. affinities ) (often affinity between/for/with) a spontaneous or natural liking or sympathy for someone or something: he has an affinity for the music of Berlioz.