I was finishing up the final draft of last night’s script when Jessica May burst into my office, a battered tin in her hand.
“I just found this. You open it.”
She’d been poking around the basement’s dropped ceiling, an easy hiding spot for the Pacino-loving hooligans who’d occupied the house previously.
Now, she doesn’t mean to cast aspersions on the people who lived here before us, she doesn’t mean to imply they may have forgotten a stash of used heroin needles, and a dead cat, in the ceiling, but –
I opened it.
Mostly baseball cards from the early 1970s, with a few ’91/’92 Wayne Gretzky cards on top.
Any suggestions on how to proceed?