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Weekly Contest #33
The cramped attic above the salon apartment was lit by one light bulb encased in a fancy laced lamp shade. It took Sylvia down memory lane, reminding her of Solomon, who was so flamboyant he put finishing touches in unseen rooms. It smelled of about-to-disintegrate paper and mothballs. She had not been up here for… she calculated when she installed the high-tech receivers and coding antennas… four years ago. But even then she hadn’t bothered touching the boxes. “Any room up there?” “Oh sorry dove, miles away, come on up, mind your head.” She...
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