It arrived in the mail with no return address. Just my name, written neatly on the front of the envelope in handwriting I didn’t recognize.
Inside was a folded note and a twenty-dollar bill, held in place with a single strip of tape.
The letter began:
“Miss Emily, You may not remember us…”
At first, I didn’t.
But as I kept reading, the memory started to return—a couple in a supermarket checkout line, their card not going through, a baby crying nearby. I remembered stepping in quietly, covering the cost of their groceries, and thinking little of it as I walked out.
Apparently, it had meant more than I realized.
The note continued:
“You helped us when we needed it most. We are back on our feet now. Thank you for showing kindness to mi familia.”
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