From The Memory Collectors:

Ev squats on a heap of garbage, one hand on the edge of the dumpster to keep her balance, and listens for ghosts. Something inside this bin has a sweet stain. It’s strong enough she could sense it when she skimmed past on her bike. Feels like love, or close enough that people will pay good money for it. It doesn’t matter if the stain belongs to a wedding band, an old photograph or a doll with matted-up hair. Ev’s gonna find it.