MY NEIGHBOR BURST INTO MY HOUSE FURIOUS AFTER I EMPTIED HER TRASH BINS AS A FRIENDLY GESTURE AFTER MOVING IN

“HOW DARE YOU DO THAT?!” my 58-year-old neighbor screamed at me, eyes wild.

“I’m so sorry,” I stammered. “I just moved in yesterday and wanted to do something nice, so I took out your trash with mine.”

“YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU’VE DONE!” she shrieked, her voice breaking into sobs before she ran to her car and sped off towards the local dump.

I just stood there, stunned. Like, seriously, what could’ve been that important in those trash bags?
Curiosity got the best of me. I hopped into my car and followed her to the dump.

I kept a distance, trying to piece together what the hell was going on, until I finally spotted those dark green garbage bags she’d been so hysterical about.
“There they are!” I called out, making my way over.
“DON’T YOU DARE OPEN THEM!” she screamed, sprinting in my direction.
But of course, my curiosity won. Before she could reach me, I carefully pulled open one of the bags—
And my eyes went wide

—because inside, buried under layers of crumpled paper and discarded junk, were stacks of cash.

Tens of thousands of dollars.

Neatly wrapped in rubber bands, some of the stacks were even bundled together with bank slips.

My heart pounded.

What the hell had I just uncovered?

I barely had time to process before my neighbor lunged at me, yanking the bag away.

“YOU WEREN’T SUPPOSED TO SEE THAT!” she shrieked, her face twisted in pure panic.

I stumbled back. “W-What is all this?”

She clutched the bag to her chest, her breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps.

Then she whispered, “It’s all I have left.”

My skin prickled.

“Left from what?” I asked cautiously.

She looked around frantically, as if expecting someone to be watching.

Then, in a voice so low I could barely hear it, she said:

“From the robbery.”

The Truth Comes Out

My stomach flipped. “What robbery?”

She squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head.

But I wasn’t letting this go. Not now.

“Tell me,” I demanded.

Finally, she let out a long, shaky breath.

“Thirty years ago, my husband and I were bank robbers. We stole over a million dollars and hid it away. But he… he died before we could ever use it. And I—” She hesitated, tears forming in her eyes. “I was too scared to touch it. Too scared someone would find out.”

I stared at her, stunned.

“So you’ve just been hiding stolen money in your trash?”

She gave a weak laugh. “Not exactly. Every few months, I take some out, hide it in new bags, then move it to different places so it doesn’t get traced. It’s why I was so careful. And then you…” She trailed off, her gaze flickering to me with something between gratitude and terror.

I swallowed hard. “So… what now?”

She exhaled.

“Now?” Her lips twisted into a smirk.

“Now, you have two options. Forget what you saw… or help me disappear.”