Poor Older Lady Didn’t Let Anyone Into Her Home for 26 Years Until I Set Foot Inside

I’m 38, married with two kids, living on a quiet Midwestern street where everyone smiles and waves—everyone except Mrs. Halloway, the reclusive woman in the old Victorian at the end of the block. She never spoke to anyone, never had visitors, and sometimes late at night I’d hear soft piano music drifting from her windows. A thin orange cat always watched from the sill.

Then one night, an ambulance came. I ran outside barefoot and saw Mrs. Halloway being wheeled out. She grabbed my wrist and whispered through her oxygen mask, “Please… my cat. Don’t let her starve.”

Her front door was left open.

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