MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat

They passed by a small café, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafting out into the street.

As they walked, Damon couldn\'t help but feel a sense of excitement and gratitude.

The envelope from Mr. Steele had contained a generous sum of $600, which would go a long way in helping them get back on their feet.

He had told his mom about it last night, and they had agreed to use some of it to buy new clothes.

The thrift store came into view, its faded sign creaking gently in the breeze. Aoife pushed open the door, and they stepped inside.

The store was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of old clothes and fabric softener.

Rows of racks stretched out before them, packed tightly with garments of every color and style.

Damon\'s eyes widened as he scanned the racks, overwhelmed by the sheer amount of choices.

He hadn\'t been in a clothing store since they fled Ireland, and the experience felt foreign yet exciting. Aoife smiled and took his hand, leading him deeper into the store.

As they browsed, Damon\'s fingers trailed over the fabrics, feeling the softness of cotton, the smoothness of polyester, and the roughness of denim.

Damon watched as his mother\'s eyes lingered on a dress, her gaze softening as she reached out to touch the fabric.

He encouraged her, "Come on, Mom, try it on! There\'s a fitting room, and it\'s only..." He checked the price tag, his eyes widening in surprise. "Ten dollars!" he exclaimed, handing her the dress. "If it fits or you like it, we can take it," he said, gently pushing her towards the changing room.

As his mother disappeared into the fitting room, Damon continued browsing the racks, his fingers trailing over the garments.

He selected a few shirts and pants, carefully checking the sizes to ensure they would fit. He also picked out a pair of shoes, his eyes scanning the store to see if they had any more deals like this.

The prices were astonishingly low, and Damon couldn\'t help but wonder if the clothes were genuine. He knew they weren\'t brand new, but they looked barely used.

Most of the items were in perfect condition, with no visible stains or tears. The quality was decent, and Damon was impressed by the thrift store\'s selection.

He wandered over to the changing room, waiting for his mother to emerge. The air was thick with the scent of fabric softener and the faint hint of perfume.

Damon heard the sound of clothes rustling, followed by the soft murmur of his mother\'s voice. "Damon, come see!"

He pushed open the curtain, and his mother twirled in front of the mirror, the dress fluttering around her knees.

The color brought out the warmth in her skin, and her eyes sparkled with delight. "What do you think?" she asked, her voice filled with excitement.

Damon smiled, taking in the sight of his mother in the dress. "You look beautiful, Mom," he said, his voice sincere. "We should get it."

His mother beamed, and Damon helped her out of the dress, carefully hanging it back on the rack. They continued shopping, their arms growing laden with bags and bundles of clothes.

The thrill of the hunt was exhilarating, and Damon felt grateful for this small pleasure in their lives.

As they finished shopping, Damon couldn\'t help but feel a sense of joy and contentment. Seeing his mother happy, wearing the dress they had found, brought a warmth to his heart.

He admitted to himself that this feeling was better than winning any fight.

As they approached the counter to pay, the cash register lady greeted them with a friendly smile.

Damon\'s mother still wore the dress, and the lady didn\'t mind, as long as they were paying for it.

The lady scanned the items, her fingers moving quickly over the keyboard. "That\'ll be $278 please," she said, her voice cheerful.

Damon handed over the cash, and the lady handed him the change. "Oh, if you\'re interested in furniture or electronics, you can go to the store on the opposite side of the street," she said, pointing out the window. "Same concept as this one, just for electronics."

Damon\'s ears perked up at the mention of electronics.

He had been thinking about finding a stove, maybe they could finally have their first home-cooked meal. He looked at the lady, "Thank you," he said, his voice sincere.

As they left the thrift store, Damon carried the plastic bags in each hand, the weight of their new clothes and shoes a tangible reminder of their successful shopping trip.

They walked towards the store the cashier had directed them to, the one that supposedly sold electronics.

The sign above the door read "Second-Hand Electronics" and Damon felt a surge of excitement at the prospect of finding a stove.

As they entered the store, they were immediately greeted by rows of old computers and monitors, their screens dark and uninviting.

The air inside was surprisingly fresh, Damon looked around, his eyes scanning the shelves for any sign of stoves. But all he saw were electronics, no stoves in sight.

"Mom, I don\'t think they sell stoves here," he said, a wry smile spreading across his face. Aoife rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "You haven\'t even asked the people working here yet, come on, go on, ask."

Damon scratched his head, feeling a bit silly for not thinking of that. He walked towards the counter, where a short man with a receding hairline looked up from behind the counter. "Good morning, sir," Damon said, trying to sound confident.

"Morning, how may I help you?" the man replied, his voice friendly.

Damon asked, "I was wondering if you had any stoves that I could buy?"

The man\'s face lit up with a wide smile. "Oh, sure, come with me." He walked around the counter, Damon following close behind.

They wove through the rows of electronics, Damon\'s eyes fixed on the man\'s back.

Finally, they stopped in front of a large stove, one that looked like it belonged in a commercial kitchen.

Damon\'s heart sank, he hadn\'t been looking for something this big, this expensive. And it would definitely need delivery.

The man stood proudly beside the stove, a look of expectation on his face. Damon didn\'t know whether to laugh or cry, this was not what he had been hoping for.