Now 64, Carla was refurbished twice to keep her curb appeal and it kept the condo commissions coming.
She didn’t appreciate meeting at eight-thirty in the evening, but the Conroy place hit eighty-five days on the market and she had a ninety-day contract.
The updated realtor opened the door to 32-year-old Kevin, who could use a splash of paint but otherwise was move-in ready with what Carla imagined to be a desirable neighborhood beneath his Levi’s.
After showing off her breathtaking views, Carla conveniently finished the condo tour in the master bedroom where Cape Cod Kevin queried: “What stays?”
“Everything you’re looking at, honey, and we can close the deal tonight.”
Carla collected another commission – and might even sell the place – giving her email to Colonial Kev and whispering, “Why own when you can rent?” ###
Okay, no crime here, move along. Come on, people, nothing to see here. Children, cover your eyes. Mom, if that’s you, I hired a ghost writer for “R.”
I don’t know what happened. This started out as a murder mystery and my protagonist completely took over the entire plot with her greedy little hands. Six-sentence stories were developed in homage to Hemingway who wrote a six-word story (For sale. Baby shoes. Never worn.). Letter R was brought to you by Raid, it kills bugs dead. (Finally, a murder!) And by Rolaids, how do you spell relief? Thanks for coming by!
Any “S” ideas for tomorrow, please send ’em in during our all-request hour.