When I spotted that old couch at a weekend garage sale, I was just looking for something cheap and sturdy to finish off the makeshift guest room I was setting up in my garage. I never expected it would lead to a discovery that would forever change lives—mine included.
It was early Saturday morning, and I had already decided I wasn’t going to spend a fortune. The faded floral couch with scuffed wooden legs caught my eye. It had a gentle, lingering scent of lavender, and the fabric showed its age, but it seemed comfortable and full of character.
The seller, Kristen, approached with a warm smile. “That was my mom’s couch,” she said softly. “She had it for as long as I can remember.” There was sadness in her voice, and when I asked for the price, she hesitated before answering, “Twenty dollars.”
As I fished for my wallet, she continued, her tone subdued, “We’re selling a lot of her things. My mom passed away six months ago, and we need money for my daughter’s treatments. She’s been fighting leukemia.” Her words hit hard. I looked back at the couch, realizing it was more than just a piece of furniture to this family. Without further thought, I agreed to the price, grateful to help in a small way.
Once home, I wrestled the couch into my garage-turned-guest-room. But as soon as I set it down, my dog, Wasabi, went into a frenzy—barking, sniffing, pawing at one specific spot in the upholstery. At first, I laughed, assuming maybe he smelled a hidden treat. But he wouldn’t let up, and a strange thought crossed my mind: people sometimes find hidden valuables in old furniture.
Curiosity got the better of me. I pulled out a utility knife and carefully cut into the spot where Wasabi was fixated. As I peeled back the fabric, my heart pounded. Wedged inside were bundles of cash—thousands of dollars tucked away, as if the couch had once been a secret bank vault.
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