I Brought Groceries to My Elderly Neighbor Every Sunday for Twelve Years. After His Funeral, His Lawyer Handed Me a Suitcase I Never Expected.

“Not once.”

“Then what kept you going?”

I looked toward the window at the stone path between the homes.

“By then, he was my friend,” I said.

“You don’t stop seeing a friend because the shopping bags get heavy.”

Maya let the silence settle before switching off the recorder.

She hugged me as I stood, and for one moment I could feel how quickly twelve years had become twenty-two.

PART 23