With gratitude,
Carmen Ruiz
I stayed still for a long time—I don’t know how long. I only remember the distant noise of the alley outside, a dog barking somewhere down the street, and the unbearable weight of that letter on my knees.
The Box
Then I stood up, my legs shaking, and went to the wardrobe in her bedroom.
I found the false drawer—the bottom one that she had apparently had installed or modified years ago, before I even knew her. Behind it was a metal box, old and slightly rusted but sturdy.
I opened it with the key.
Inside were several bundles of neatly wrapped bills—more money than I had ever seen in my life, more money than I had ever imagined Carmen could have accumulated. There were also official documents—the house deeds, the title transferred into my name, everything notarized and legal and real.
