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I was up early this morning to brew some coffee, when my nice neighbor came knocking on my door. He told me there were lots of boxes in his attic he no longer wanted and asked if I was interested in stumbling around and keeping any stuff before he threw it out. I scrambled to my closet, threw on a robe and slippers, locked my front door and followed, Mr. Russfur. There in his humble home I found books from the 1800s. I explained the treasure he had, but he insisted it was like a gift. Now I’m back home, in my bed covered in books; romance novels, published advice from Benjamin Franklin, poetry, and bibles, each well over a hundred years old. I’m such a little giddy school girl, happy as can be.