I’d always avoided thrift shops. I never wanted used clothes. I feared absorbing a stranger’s energy. Maybe she was an anxious stranger, or angry, unkind, depressed. Maybe she was dead. I didn’t want to take that chance. Even after I’d laundered the clothing, some part of the past would remain in the weave.

https://www.riverteethjournal.com/blog/2023/03/19/river-teeth-issue-preview-242