For months, the routine looked simple enough: every morning, Barbara rolled several oversized black trash bags to the curb, then left before the collection truck came through. The bags were always full, always heavy, and always gone by the time the neighborhood settled into the day.
At first, I assumed she was cleaning out her house or doing some kind of renovation. But the pattern continued for so long that it became hard not to wonder what one person could possibly be throwing away every single weekday.
One morning, curiosity got the better of me. I loosened the knot on one of the bags, expecting to see broken boxes, old clothes, or yard debris.
That was not what I found.