Every morning, my neighbor Evelyn dragged three, four, sometimes five enormous trash bags to the curb of our quiet Oak Park street. One day, I finally looked inside. I really wish I hadn’t.
Evelyn seemed like the kind of woman who had her entire life perfectly under control. She lived in a gorgeous colonial house, kept her manicured lawn and rose beds immaculate, and drove a spotless luxury SUV. We weren’t exactly friends, but she always offered a polite wave and a cheerful “good morning” whenever we happened to be out in our driveways at the same time.
The only bizarre thing about her was the trash.
Around seven o’clock every morning, she would step outside in her slippers and a plush white bathrobe, physically struggling with several huge black garbage bags. These weren’t your standard kitchen trash bags, either. They were the heavy-duty, contractor-sized kind, packed so tight and heavy that she often had to stop halfway down the concrete driveway just to catch her breath.
At first, I barely paid attention to it. Then, my wife, Sarah, brought it up over a cup of coffee at breakfast.
“Have you ever wondered what exactly is in all those bags?” she asked.
I chuckled and replied, “Garbage?”
But she had a valid point. We barely filled a single standard bag every day, whereas Evelyn threw out enough junk each week to fill a commercial dumpster. She wasn’t remodeling her house, she didn’t run a home business, she wasn’t constantly getting furniture delivered, and she wasn’t clearing out an estate. There was absolutely no logical explanation for that massive volume of waste.
After that conversation, I couldn’t stop obsessing over it.
One chilly Tuesday morning, Evelyn left for work before the city sanitation truck made its rounds. I peered up and down the empty street, walked over to her curb, and carefully untied the thick plastic knot on one of the bags. I only meant to take a quick peek to settle my nagging curiosity.
But the absolute second I pulled the heavy plastic open, every single hair on my arms stood straight up.
