Elias operated "Second Life Appliances," a one-man shop out of a rented warehouse on the edge of town. He spent his days scouring local listings and answering frantic calls from people moving cross-country or clearing out estates.

His phone buzzed. It was a local number—a woman named Sarah. She sounded tired.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, he sat on the tailgate of his truck, scrolling through the next round of local leads. Another house, another move, another machine waiting for a second chance. Elias started the engine; there was always someone looking to sell, and he was always ready to buy.

Elias checked his map. She was only three miles away, tucked in a suburb where people valued convenience over profit.