by Libby Hanssen Hand-lettered signs direct us to memories A worn front step, clean small rooms, Every piece from two lives, priced to move. Strangers discussing Snowblowers, Loaf pans, Golf clubs, A velvet dress, Trophies, Boots, worn and slouched, An exercise bike with music stand soldered to the handlebars. An antique bassinet is labeled doll bed ($75) filled with hand-stitched coverlets and a silk cloth, biplanes and buildings woven in orange and blue ($15) Vintage valentines ($1) are dedicated to Irene, shuffled around a baby’s portrait in a cardboard frame, in a cardboard box. Linens ($3) are folded, taped into piles, but a cabinet has no key ($75) and a scratched souvenir baseball ($1) is perched on a 2x4 nook, stashed with a second thought. We leave with steak knives ($5) and a cake carrier ($3) to add to the things that our children, or grandchildren, or maybe just strangers will sort through a last time, priced to move.