She woke before dawn to secure the sign into her yard. “EVERYTHING MUST GO!” it said in large, block letters she had traced from a stencil. “EVERYTHING” was waiting under blanketed tables in the garage, which she trundled out into the driveway as the neighbors’ lights clicked on for the day. She sipped from a thermos of coffee, breathing heavily with the strain of lifting and the uneasiness of letting go.

When folks arrived she greeted them with a smile, saying, “PRICES NEGOTIABLE!” with the same enthusiasm as the sign, as if stenciled. She watched the knickknacks dwindle down throughout the day, tallying each purchase in a ledger. In her heart was another ledger, taking toll in a different way.

She watched the wind catch hold of a row of fancy dish towels she had assembled along the fencerow flanking the driveway, the little tags fluttering in the breeze. Her mother’s voice came back to her, scolding her for mopping up spilled nail polish with one of her favorites all those years ago. She looked at them flapping around, could hardly believe it had already been in heaven a month.

She switched her gaze to the sign. Not everything should go, she told the sign as she pulled the towels from the fence and carried them back into the house. Some things should stay.