Secretly, Bud had collected postcards from the garbage left at the dump. He would never be so bold as to read a personal letter or check the bank statements of the residents in town. But he thought that there was no harm in taking and keeping picture postcards. After all, these were meant to be read. He would look at the pictures on the front whild he sat up on his stool at the dump. He would imagine what it must be like to visit someplace exotic and warm. He often wished he could show the pretty photographs to his wife. He wished that he would have taken Linda to one of those places before she had gotten cancer and died at the age of 44. The postcards made Bud feel happy and sad at the same time.