Young widow picked up a backpack thrown from an expensive car at the landfill. «I’ll take it for my son for school!» she thought. But, opening it, she was speechless…

Sarah silently watched as the car drove away. Someone had thrown out a backpack. But why? She approached and cautiously picked it up by the strap.

It was a perfectly intact, almost new school backpack, bright blue, with a pattern of cars. Heavy, too. What a good one! I’ll take it for Timmy for school, Sarah thought, barely holding back a joyful smile.

Her seven-year-old son, in his second year, was using an old, worn backpack left from his cousin. The widow couldn’t afford to buy a new one. And here was a gift from fate, which she couldn’t have expected as she walked along the country road home after her second shift.

The wind swirled trash in the air, pushing her in the back, creeping under the collar of her thin jacket. Her feet in soaked boots ached from fatigue, but she habitually turned toward the landfill. This was her small, simple rule—to stop by here on the way.

Sometimes luck smiled, like a microwave still working, or a coat that looked almost new after washing. Wealthier people often left decent things at the very edge, not daring to throw them into the pile, as if their conscience suggested leaving a chance for those worse off. This evening initially promised no find.

Old, irreparable furniture, broken toys. Sarah hunched her shoulders and was about to pass by when suddenly the roar of an engine sounded in the distance. At the edge of the landfill stopped a black luxury SUV, too out of place for such a spot.

In the silence, carefree male laughter rang out. And at that moment, a colorful backpack flew out of the open window, plopping right into the muddy dirt. The wheels spun, kicking up trash from under them, and the car sped off, dissolving in the dusty haze.

Sarah stood there, feeling an icy shiver crawl down her spine, either from the cold or from some vague premonition. Sarah looked around. No one nearby…

Two stray dogs were rummaging in a pile of garbage far away, and somewhere a bulldozer’s body rumbled. She quickly wiped the dirt off the backpack’s pocket with her sleeve. Interesting, what’s inside? Strong curiosity battled with vague anxiety.

Glancing at the road, what if the car returns? The woman hesitantly unzipped it. Inside lay neatly folded clothes, as if covering the rest of the backpack’s contents. Sarah pushed them aside, and from surprise nearly dropped the backpack…