SHE WROTE THE SAME LETTER TO A PARK BENCH EVERY YEAR — THEN ONE DAY, SOMEONE LEFT A NOTE IN RETURN
Every year on April 3rd, without fail, Martha would walk to the old bench beneath the chestnut tree in the city park. She always wore the same pale yellow cardigan, carried a thermos of coffee, and had a letter in her coat pocket. She’d sit, sip, and wait — sometimes for hours. Then she’d pull … Read more