Inside the box was a neatly folded letter, aged and delicate, much like the hands that must have penned it. As I unfolded the paper, a small, tarnished locket fell into my palm. I paused, letting the weight of it settle, both physically and emotionally, before turning my attention to her final words.
“Dear Friend,” it began in a shaky yet deliberate script. “For years, you have been my beacon in an otherwise dark and lonely world. Your kindness gave me the strength to carry on, even when life seemed most bleak.”
