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We watched from inside the house, my sisters and I, as people came and picked through the piles of garbage we had put out earlier that day.  It was expected that some would show up to go through what we had sorted and left on the porch as "good", but what we hadn't expected was that grownups would dig into the bags and boxes at the curb, stuffed with trash.  One man, cigarette dangling from his mouth and coughing into the frigid night air, loaded the garbage onto a tarp and dragged it across the street to his small house.  My younger sisters were horrified and wanted to yell at them to go away.  "Don't they know we put the good stuff on the porch?  Why isn't anyone looking up here?"  Annabelle was probably mad that all her hard work wasn't being appreciated, though she had done the least of the three of us.