He scanned the room, his smile becoming strained. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple as potential buyers whispered amongst themselves, hesitant to be the first to bid on the supposedly “haunted” property. The stories Stacey had planted were working, weaving their doubt like a fog over the room.
Finally, Mr. Perkly’s composure began to crumble. His gaze darted from one attendee to the next, searching desperately for a sign of interest. The silence felt suffocating, each second amplifying his desperation as the room’s whispers grew louder, their skepticism palpable.