The Weight of Kindness
As I stood by her window, watching the evening light fade over the city, I thought about how easy it is to overlook people like her — the quiet ones, the ones who slip through life without making noise.
We assume they’re distant or cold, but maybe they’re just waiting for someone to see them.
I thought about my childish drawings, how I had forgotten them, while she had kept them close for half a century.
All those years, I had walked past her door without knowing that a piece of me lived inside her home.
