It wasn’t a lie.
Doña Carmen really had left me everything.
The house… and three plots of land near the sea.
Their value was enough to change my life completely.
I could stop working.
I could have lived comfortably for years.
But I remembered the last part of her letter.
“If you ever see someone as lonely as I once was… don’t ignore them.”
So I made a decision.
I sold one of the plots of land.
With that money, I finished college.
Then I opened a small community kitchen in the same neighborhood where Doña Carmen lived.
A place where elderly people who live alone can come and eat for free.
On the wall, next to the entrance, there’s an old photograph.
The broken radio.
The faded photos.
And an elderly woman smiling gently.
Underneath the photo is a small plaque that reads:
“In memory of Doña Carmen.
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