Grandma passed the night before. I didn’t know her, met her only a few times so I wasn’t exactly shedding tears.
Then they dropped a bombshell: I was in the will.
Hopes were suddenly sky-high. I had visions of cash-stuffed envelopes… old stock certificates… vintage jewelry.
Turns out all she left me was a wooden trunk – a century-old relic.
The contents were even more depressing. What the hell was I going to do with a dusty bible, a tattered saddle blanket and a shockingly well-preserved pair of Levi’s?
The trunk looked old, maybe I could get some money for that.
The Weekday One Hundred 