There’s a strange, sentimental weight a garage sale occupies, when the things on display once belonged to someone you loved. Each item feels like a fragment of a story you’re not quite ready to close. The ache of trying to turn memory into something transactional. Yet somewhere between the haggling and the goodbyes, there’s a quiet understanding: you’re not just selling things, you’re making space. Hoping someone else will find a little meaning in what’s left behind.