I learned a long time ago to choose my battles. If someone wants to give me a handful of fancy clothes while I was here, then so be it. It’s not like I’ll be taking them with me when I leave because hey, I won’t ever need them again. I prefer to be practical instead of shooting myself in the foot. Add the fact that the clothes are new. I can’t remember the last time I wore something that wasn’t a hand me down or used.
I thought all of this before I got a glimpse of one of the price tags. It was obvious that someone had tried tearing some of them off, but there were a few that they’d missed. I held the sheer looking beach top up and almost cried at the waste. Do you know what I can do with a thousand dollars? Who pays that much for a shirt?
And why would she give it to me? Does she even know that her brother had brought this stuff to me? I snatched the door back open again. “Did you steal this stuff?”