Somebody rang me at the shop to say that they’d left something important in a donation. This happens from time to time and my heart always sinks, because it’s invariably a stained and moth-eaten rag that’s already on its way to the tip. They wouldn’t say what it was though, so I had to let them come back and sort through it all.
It slowly became apparent that grandma was being embalmed, and they’d forgotten to keep a change of clothes. So I had to watch as they chose an outfit for a corpse.