“A job’s a job,” Angie muttered as she began stuffing garbage bags with magazines and candy wrappers, soda cans and wadded up napkins. At least she had on heavy duty gloves; these hoarder houses were the worst. In the corner of the family room were smashed flowerpots and picture frames as if the owner had flung them there out of desperation or frustration. Mindful of the shards, Angie picked one up and under the cracked glass saw a woman not much different from herself with two little boys. This was once a family. This was once a whole life.
Prompt from the Carrot Ranch