Attributing a past

He felt awkward, buying something that had to be a family heirloom for two dollars.

The woman in charge of the garage sale obviously didn’t give a damn. She hadn’t even bothered to organize what she had decided to get rid of. It was as if she had picked up the contents of her storage room and dumped it all out on her lawn.

Or, more likely, had done the same thing for a family member’s storage room, uncaring of the sentiment behind it.

It was hard to judge. She couldn’t have the same attachment to something that someone else did. Much as he could have attachment to something that was technically worth two dollars and only his perception made it worth more. The fact it felt as though it had to be an heirloom, at one point or another.

Maybe it hadn’t happened yet. Maybe it started here.

He bought the musical carousel figurine, with faded colors and scratched paint.

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