I had bought a Duran Duran shirt in 2002 and had been wearing it up until last year. Last year I realized it was too worn out so I decided to throw it in one of those salvation army boxes. On one weekend after I finished my grocery shopping I spotted a salvation army box next to the Shoprite I was at and so threw the shirt in there. It was a very unique shirt, not one that you could buy in a store but either at a concert or directly from the band's website (which is what I had done). The following week I spotted an employee in Shoprite wearing it. I know she was an employee because although not in uniform she was sitting in an employee-only section in their break section. There is no way that they had emptied the box this quick and distributed its contents. I'm guessing she just reached in and took it it out herself.
"My parents, brother, and I left Iran in 1980, shortly after the revolution. After a brief stay in Italy, we packed all our belongings once again and headed west to the exotic and the unknown: Vancouver. We had recently been accepted as landed immigrants, meaning Canada graciously opened its doors and we gratefully accepted; we arrived at Vancouver International Airport on my 10th birthday, three suitcases and one sewing machine in tow. After respectful but intense questioning at immigration, we were dropped off at a hotel on Robson Street, which was then still a couple years shy of becoming the fashionable tourist hub it is today. We were jetlagged, culture shocked, and hungry, so that first night, my father and brother courageously ventured out into the wild in search of provisions. I fell asleep before they returned. The next morning, I woke up at 5 a.m. and ravenously feasted on a cold Quarter Pounder with cheese and limp French fries that had been left by my beds...

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