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“My jewelry. My wedding ring. My mother’s pearls. The bracelet your grandfather gave me on our anniversary. They’re all… gone.”
She opened it every Sunday just to admire them.
It wasn’t because they were expensive. She just did that because all those pieces held memories, and they reminded her of a well-lived life.
And now they were gone? How was that even possible?
“Don’t worry, Grandma,” I said, already grabbing my keys. “I’ll be right over.”
When I arrived, she was sitting on the couch with the wooden jewelry box on the table. Her hands were shaking as she opened the lid.
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