The Little Black Dress

Eleventh Hour Fiction

by Tiffany Greenfield,

Her vintage “pin up girl” style attracted looks from old men who were reminded of their youthful wartime conquests.  But with their diminished vision they missed the tattoo that ran down the side of her neck and piercings that were everywhere but her ears.  Very few things would get her out of bed this early on a Saturday morning, but the ad in the local paper had intrigued her.  “Old woman died, starving artist heir needs money, estate sale Saturday at dawn, 364 Seaside Avenue.

Ever since she was a kid she loved all things old.  Her Grandma’s kitchen was one of her earliest memories.  Grandma would be making homemade noodles, rolling them out on her pink counter top dusted with just enough flour to make a cloud as she carefully worked the dough, turning it over and over, side to side.  She remembered the sound of the rolling…

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