When I was a child, the carnival came to town like a gust of magic—bright lights, swirling music, and the scent of popcorn mingling with dust and wonder. One warm evening, I walked alongside my parents, my small hand tucked into my father's, taking it all in with wide eyes. There were games and rides, but one tent stood apart. A crowd of curious onlookers gathered near its entrance. My father glanced at it, then gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. "Let’s see what this is all about."

Inside, a man stood on stage under harsh lights, surrounded by merchandise—watches, clocks, small appliances, and toys. His voice danced through the air, smooth and quick like a magician’s patter. He auctioned items one by one, then offered to let people exchange what they'd won for something else....

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