She had not long moved into the street.
The newcomer was a single woman in her early forties. The removal van had only been gone a few days before a sign outside had heralded a garage sale to be held on the following Saturday. It was a case of her having a great deal of belongings that she simply no longer needed. She was starting a new life in a new place. On the day, she parked her car on the front verge and laid out items on two trestle tables. Most of it consisted of small items with prices noted on pieces of paper. These were kept as low as possible in order to get rid of things. It began mid-morning, with plenty of interest. She was prepared to let it run all day, if necessary.
By mid-afternoon, she was pleased to see that the majority of it had been sold. There were only a few higher priced items left. She had anticipated this, and was prepared to end up lumbered with these. The gun was the most expensive thing she wanted to be rid of and was considering calling it a day when a man turned up and showed considerable interest in the weapon.
Apparently, he was a collector, and aside from wanting to bring the price down, he obviously meant to buy it.
Turning it over in his hands, he said, “This is a particularly fine handgun.”
“Is it?” she said, with raised eyebrows.
“Oh! Yes. They don’t make these anymore.”
“Is that right?”
“Yes. It is. It’s a P320 AXG Scorpion.” He sighed. “This is a model I don’t have. Sig Sauer discontinued production of these.”
“I didn’t know that,”
“Do you have a licence for it?” he asked.
“No. It was my husband’s. My late husband, that is.”
He pouted. “I see.”
“I’m afraid there are no bullets to go with it,” she went on. “As far as I know, it was only fired once.”
He smiled and took out his wallet.
He wanted it.
She wanted to get rid of it.
It was a deal.