I poured my tattered treasures from the flea market onto the table. Amethyst beads, a postcard’s message; "Bon Baisers," a brass star on stripes of blue, a white feather, a faded pink satin ribbon that barely holds a bow, a tarnish copper nest with grains of pearl, and a glass locket with an image of a boy who seems to look as if he has something to say.
Frenchhusband looks at the bits and pieces then looks at me and shrugs, "You have expensive taste Corey!" He says in jest.
"Oh I know I do!" I winked and thought to myself, "Little does he know what’s in the trunk of the car!"
Photo: Yesterdays glory.
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