Closet Clutter. Clocks and candles, carpet bags and cosy slippers filled the cupboard to overflowing. Aunt Maisie hadn’t cared as long as the rest of the house was pristine perfect, untouched and unsullied. Jennie leant on the door, remembering how she’d squashed herself into the cupboard, comforted by the mess, when Aunt Maisie had told her she was making the place look untidy. “You’re a waste of space” she’d said. Now Aunt Maisie was dead. Her space was being sold. Jennie flicked through some papers.There’d been nothing of Maisie’s life in the house, perhaps she’d find it in the closet.
In response to Rochelle for both the photo prompt and hosting Friday Fictioneers.