I read on obsessively, living out fantasies through her words that I’d never dare experience on my own, compelled by the three men in her life, none of whom had names. Why had she let these items so neatly packed, possessions that she clearly cared about deeply, be lost at an auction? Driven to find out by some unnamed force, I began to dig, to discover this woman’s life, and yes, read her journals-dark, erotic journals that I had no business reading. Soon, I was standing inside a small room that held the intimate details of another woman’s life, feeling uncomfortable, as if I was invading her privacy. Now she was on her way to the airport to elope with a man she barely knew, and she needed me to clear out the unit before the lease expired. She’d bought it to make extra money after watching some storage auction show. It all began when my neighbor thrust a key to a storage unit at me. Later, I’d question that, as I would question pretty much everything I knew about me, my relationships, and my desires. One day I was a high school teacher on summer break, leading a relatively uneventful but happy life.
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