Hazel hugged her stuffed rabbit. “Are we poor?”

“We’re… resourceful,” I said, hoping my voice sounded convincing.

We didn’t have “new appliance” money. So that weekend, I loaded the kids into the car and drove to a thrift store that sold used appliances. In the back sat an old washer with a cardboard sign taped to it:

$60. AS IS. NO RETURNS.

Perfect.

The clerk shrugged. “It ran when we tested it.”

That was good enough. It was this or hand-washing clothes in the bathtub.

We wrestled it into the car. The kids argued over seat belts. Milo lost and sulked the whole drive home.

I hooked the machine up and closed the lid.

“Test run,” I said. “Empty. If it explodes, we run.”

“That’s terrifying,” Milo said.

Water rushed in. The drum turned.

Then—clink.