22/04/2025
HE FED HIS DOGS BEFORE HIMSELFâBUT WHAT WAS IN HIS BAG TOLD A DIFFERENT STORY
I passed him every morning near the metro stationâsame tree, same tattered blanket, same two dogs curled like puzzle pieces in his lap.
He never asked for anything. Just sat there, quietly, stroking their ears while the city rushed past.
Today, though, I slowed down.
I donât know why. Maybe it was the way one of the dogs looked up at meâhalf-asleep, tail thumping once. Or maybe it was the way the man cradled the food container, gently tilting it toward them like it was fine china.
I offered him a coffee.
He shook his head. âThey eat first,â he said. âAlways.â
I crouched down to pet the smaller one, and thatâs when I noticed the bag.
Black, heavy, worn at the edgesâbut zipped tight. Like something important was inside. I made a jokeââGot gold in there?â
He smiled, kind but tired. âJust memories.â
Then, after a pause, he unzipped it halfway.
Inside was a thick folder. Neatly stacked papers, a faded envelope, and a photograph.
Two kids.
And a woman I recognizedâbut couldnât place.
I looked up, confused.
He tapped the photo, then nodded toward the dogs.
âShe sent them,â he said. âAfter.â
âAfter what?â I asked.
But he didnât answer.
Just reached into the folder and pulled out a document with an official sealâone Iâd seen before, years ago when I signed my own.
And right there at the bottom, in looping script, was my âŹď¸
(continue reading in the first cá´mment)