I buy card collections around Boston, and I’ll tell you what they’re actually worth.

I started playing Magic around 2001. Friday Night Magic at the local shop, the smell of the place, winning a few of those nights when I was a kid. I took breaks and came back, the way everyone does. These days you’ll catch me playing Commander with friends on a casual Friday, collecting Lorcana with my wife, and chasing down the occasional rare I have no business affording.

I’m a software engineer by trade, fifteen years of it. An edge case is the rare thing the textbook forgets to mention, the one a careful person checks for anyway. It’s also, if you want it to be, the edges of a card. That’s the whole name. But the cards came first, from the same place yours did: a kid at a counter who thought these things were magic.

Years ago I sold off a collection I’d spent a long time building. Good cards. Nothing legendary, but cards I cared about. I got about $2,000 for the lot. At the time, it made sense.

I’d give that two grand back tomorrow to have the cards again. That’s the honest truth, and it’s the reason I do this the way I do. When you’re selling something you’ve held onto for years, the thing you’re actually afraid of isn’t getting lowballed. It’s regret. It’s handing something that mattered to a stranger who treats it like inventory. I’ve sat on your side of that table, and I’m not going to pretend I haven’t.

Send a couple of photos and roughly what you’ve got. I’ll give you an honest read. And if the honest read is “a shop will pay you more for this than I can,” I’ll tell you that too. No pressure, no hard sell. I’m not going anywhere.