At 82, I thought I knew everything about my quiet neighborhood—
until a storm revealed a buried secret.
One stormy night, the wind shattered my front window.
I called Carl, the handyman, to fix it.
He arrived looking distant, but I didn’t think much of it,
The next day, while tending to my garden, I found something strange—
an old metal box buried near the back fence.
Inside, I discovered valuable jewelry.
I suspected Carl had hidden it there,
but after contacting the police,
I learned the truth. T
he jewelry belonged to Carl’s late mother.
His wife had been selling off her belongings,
and Carl hid the jewelry to protect it,
Relieved, I confronted Carl, who apologized,
explaining he was just trying to safeguard his mother’s legacy.
I assured him I understood, and we parted on good terms.
The storm had passed, but it left behind a reminder of how far we go to protect what we love.
