Chapter 2
Michele Brankowski parked beside the twelfth row of identically decrepit storage units, hoping the woman she was supposed to meet would be on time. From the looks of the rusty fences, crumbling roads, and peeling paint on the units, the only sensible thing might be to bulldoze the whole thing into a big hole it the ground.
Strange as it might seem to others, she much preferred to evaluate furniture or appliances or collectibles still inside the houses. Even if people had passed away there. She found it much more creepy and disturbing to look at the contents that made a house a home after they were yanked out and jammed into a space they were never meant for. Where no one cared enough to keep them, arrange them, or even enough to simply pass them along or throw them away.
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