Exactly, it stops being junk the second you know where it came from. Found a chipped teacup at a yard sale years ago, and the lady told me her mother drank from it every morning for fifty years. Couldn't just leave it behind after that. Now it sits on my kitchen counter holding pens. Makes you wonder about all the quiet, ordinary hopes people have for each other. Probably simple things, like hoping he remembered to eat lunch, or that they'd get one more trip to the lake together.