One woman’s trash can be another woman’s treasure…
Ramona found the hammer wrapped in a wrinkled brown paper bag at the bottom of the trunk. In fact, it turned out to be the only item she found worth keeping. She prided herself on her current streak of yard sale luck. She’d visited one hundred and seventeen junkies so far, and she had come away as a champ each time. Ramona had bloodhound DNA in her, and a penchant for sniffing out the hidden gems and undervalued items. She especially loved the thrill of plunging into dust laden boxes in poorly lit basements. The dust would rise and disperse when she tipped each lid. Her left arm ended in a metal Maglite and her right arm the epitome of kinetic energy. She would enter the zone when on a search at a junkie. She acknowledged none of the others present. She glided through upturned boxsprings and stacks of magazines…
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23 years old girl travelling solo on a motorcycle.
Not just live and let live, but live and help live
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