Fragrant Vagrant

I was looking for houses to buy and found a place that was really pretty on the outside, as you can see. Work had already begun and it seems they completed the exterior. Neighhorhood looked well-kept.

The back door was open, (what back door? It was paneling!), so I nervously crept in. Senses heightened. The place was a wreck! Unfinished work every where. It stunk of damp and leaks.

I called out in case there was a worker or vagrant or drug lord in there, "Just looking at this house for sale! I won't bother you!" When I walked into an upstairs room, I smelled perfume! (It wafted me back to summers spent at youth camp, where all of us females were squirting various products at ourselves every morning.)

There on the floor, sitting in the drywall dust, was a woman's overnight case and a sleeping bag. I thought it would be fun to paw through the case, but decided against that. It might scare her when she came back. Besides, it's rude. Have you ever met a homeless person who was fragrant? Me neither.

Then I went downstairs and noticed a bag of fresh pampers.

How does a woman find herself homeless and with a baby? What a situation.

I wonder if she was hiding in the house.