Storm and Letter
The following week, torrential rain. Roads became rivers, and orders piled up on the delivery app. Then a call came from a neighbor. “Harold collapsed.” I stopped deliveries and headed to the hospital. He was conscious, but his voice was weak. “My watch is running slow,” he joked. I laughed, nearly cried, and laughed.
At night, he opened the workshop without breaking his promise. “If anything happens to me, open the workshop. The first month’s rent is paid in advance. A small fund is in the blue box on the back shelf. Use it to mend benches and people’s hearts.” It was written at the end of the note. “Helping others helps you. It spreads like the grain of wood.”
