The Neighbor’s Kids Cleaned Our Street Every Sunday—Then I Found What They Were Hiding Under My Bush

I knelt beside the bush, pulled away the leaves, and felt my stomach drop.

There, tucked beneath the branches, was a small metal box.

It was about the size of a paperback book, scratched and weathered, with a faded piece of blue tape wrapped around one corner.

For several seconds, I simply stared at it.

The children had not been picking up trash.

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