“Oh,” I whispered. “Oh my God. I’m… so sorry.”
“She had been getting weaker for a while. She collapsed while shopping. She left this with my manager. Told him, ‘Give this to Ethan. He’ll know the girl.’ She described you. Your name, what you bought. We managed to track you down thanks to the rewards card you swiped.”
My name was on the envelope. Shaky cursive.
I opened it on the couch. The kids peeked from the hallway, whispering.
Inside, a folded letter and official papers.
Lily,
You may not remember me, but I remember you. You helped me when others called me names. You did not know if I was “deserving.” You just saw someone who needed help.
I argued because I have always tried to stand on my own feet. I do not like to feel like a burden. But you gave me kindness, not pity. That is different.
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