I Brought Groceries to My Elderly Neighbor Every Sunday for Twelve Years. After His Funeral, His Lawyer Handed Me a Suitcase I Never Expected.
Sterling’s?” she asked.
I nodded.
“He wrote things down.
Lots of things.”
She ran a finger over a photograph of Evelyn holding a yellow rose.
“I remember her garden,” she said.
“I used to think every house should smell like that.”
Maya had been six when I first carried the groceries.
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