15 Minutes

 

Jenny didn’t want to be one of those pushy antique dealer types who bother people an hour before their garage sale officially opens.  The ad said 9 am, so she planned to be there 15 minutes early and wait for the “OK” hand sign from the eager sellers.

The Facebook post for the sale at 2911 BIrdhand Street included photos.  That’s where she saw it—an old manual typewriter with the round black keys and white letters. Maybe it was what she needed to inspire her writing hobby. The angled keyboard reminded Jenny of how her mom would stretch her fingers up to each key and then zing, push the carriage back at the end of each line. The Remington’s tapity-tap and ding were familiar and happy sounds from childhood.

Forty years ago when her sisters were young enough to take a nap, mom would make up and type stories. Of course the family’s favorite tales were the ones in which each of them played a part. Jenny was thinking about “The Cat That Knocked Over Our Christmas Tree” story when she arrived at the sale address.  

The driveway of treasure-covered tables was already full of eager shoppers.

“Excuse me,” Jenn said to the bearded gentleman sitting behind the “checkout” table. “I’m interested in the old typewriter you had on your post. Where might I find it?”

“Oh, in the back corner there.” He said, looking in that direction, then, “Martha, where did you move that clunky typewriter?”

Mrs. Garage sale lady shook her head. “We sold that 15 minutes ago.  That tall guy with who was the first one here.  Said it would inspire him to get his book done…or something like that. ”