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[…] but I got to thinking. Why not let others loft their burdens and experience the same thrill I had been keeping to myself? And why shouldn’t I benefit from it? That afternoon I placed an ad in the classifieds: „Hurler for hire. Cast your cares into nearby lot. No load too heavy. Rates reasonable.” By the next evening a throng of people and their trash filled my yard. There was the widow from two blocks over with her husband’s gold-handled golf clubs, and a crowd of jilted girlfriends and boyfriends, paying a dollar per launch to loft the fallout of their ruined romances: promise rings and ticket stubs tied in small bundles and weighted with bricks, bad birthday presents, ID bracelets, framed pictures of the formerly loved. But most often they brought their hearts, some empty, some broken. The saddest cases were the too-full hearts, the overworked ones still carrying good intentions and bad and all the fallout from a lifetime of lousy choices they’d promised themselves they’d forget but couldn’t because they were too busy twelve-stepping their way through therapy.

Gina Ochsner, People I Wanted to Be, 2005, The Hurler (p. 95)

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