Gemotions

The old, battered suitcase hidden in the attic. The crumbling, handwritten notes detailing stock investments. It wasn't until after her passing that the truth about Mrs. Hawthorne emerged. She had lived a frugal existence, always wearing the same clothes, always complaining about her limited pension.

The discovery of her vast wealth after her death made me almost physically ill. She had been so lonely, and yet so… guarded. She never spoke of the past.

The image of her, shuffling through the grocery store with her worn shopping bag, played over and over in my mind. I decided to start volunteering at the local senior center, in her memory, and to give some comfort to those who needed it.