This week's prompt at Writer's Connect was the phrase “life for sale”.
It started with an old VHS tape of Robin Hood, the first one he'd been given. He made a few pence after the cost of packaging. He sold the rest of his videos in bulk to make a better profit. He soon realised he didn't watch films at all, and put his DVDs up soon after. It took a month before he made his first sum, after the bidding had finished.
The pleasure of seeing his bank account increase was better than any retail therapy he'd ever allowed himself. He started to look around his house.
I buy pre-sliced bread, he thought. Why do I need this bread knife? Or this board, even? Or this bread bin?
He started the bids low and with long bidding times. His outgoings after bills were only the costs of postage and packaging. He felt a strange relief to see his walls again, his shelf space, his bare carpets.
I sleep to relax, he thought. I don't need this couch. So he sold it. It wasn't a bad couch either. He was so eager for the rush he got from being paid that he shortened the bidding time. The young couple that bought it were pleased with their bargain.
He planned holidays, although when and with who he'd not thought through. One day at a time, his home emptied.
He'd sit at home, thinking of the European cities he wanted to see. But he was so stingy that nobody would come with him- they knew he wouldn't spend. So these days he trawls Ebay again, trying to make his home a comfort to others, never having traveled, buying back the wares he'd sold, the life he'd had, reversing every plan he'd made.