H equals W.

Well, well, back again, are you?

You always seem to arrive on nights like this,

when the wind won't sit still, and the dust settles.

Wrong.

Come in, hang your coat, but don't get too comfortable.

This one, she sticks to the skin.

Tonight's lot isn't old, but that doesn't make it safe.

Lot 087 is a t-shirt, sized medium, fitted.

The words, dirty dusters printed across the chess in a thick, playful font.

There's a faint shimmer across the collar, glitter maybe, or residue from something stranger.

It was donated anonymously, folded once, sealed in a plain Ziploc bag.

Inside, a note, unsigned, that read only one day was enough.

No origin, no return address, just this shirt, and a story told in two parts.

We begin with a young woman and her friend, a one-time job, a strange house, a man with too much money, and a contract. This is lot 087,

and this is the beginning of a story called, I worked as a topless maid for one day. What I saw terrified me.

Before we begin, I want to point out some of the customers whose names have been etched in brass

on this beautiful plaque I had made above the front desk.

These are some of the members of the inner circle of the Antiquarium.

We go by the Obsidian Covenant.

Recent initiates include Peter Irisari, Laura Sanders,

Bayyna Edwards, Odasaku,

...