ADVERTISEMENT
with silver hair pulled back in a neat bun and cautious eyes.
“Yes?” she said, her voice polite but wary.
“Hi,” I said, suddenly feeling awkward. “Does someone named Claire live here?”
Her expression shifted to suspicion. “Who wants to know?”
“My name is Graham,” I said quickly. “I think I bought your old washing machine. From the Thrift Barn?”
Her eyes continue reading …
ADVERTISEMENT
