Yard sales. Throughout the neighborhood, people selling old memories. Books never read, old copper pots from grandma, a bicycle missing a seat. Everything must go.

An old lady sits in the garage with the door up. She yells out, Everything on that table is five dollars. A deck of cards with pinups on them. A rosary made out of wood. Couple of leather bound Bibles. Patsy Cline and Charley Pride records. Husbands and wives look cautiously through the goods.

Cars go by slowly. A suburban drive on a Saturday afternoon. From one end to the other, yards covered in folding tables and cardboard signs. Cigar boxes holding cash. It’s all somebody else’s junk, a man says under his breath. Empty picture frames which once housed loved ones. A vase with plastic flowers in it.

How much would you sell a memory for?