<b>Chapter </b><b>191 </b>


    32%


    I thought, ‘I didn’t need to ask. I knew she must have heard about the demolition ande over.


    “Zoe, they’re tearing this ce down. It’s such a shame,” Lena sighed, a rare moment of sentiment from her.


    I didn’t know how to respond, only offering a sad expression. Lena continued, “I just spent money fixing up the ce, and it hasn’t even been rented for a month yet. Now I have to ask people to move out… What a loss.”


    I remained silent, unsure of what to say.


    3


    “Zoe, I tried calling the guy who rented the ce, but he hasn’t answered. If <i>you </i>see him today, can you ask him to


    call me back? Also, let him know about the demolition, so he can start looking for a new ce and pack up his things,” Lena asked.


    “Alright,” I replied.


    “Thanks, Zoe,” Lena said gratefully. Then, her tone shifted to something more casual. “So, you’ve met the guy who


    rented the ce, right? He’seems nice, doesn’t he?”


    I chuckled softly. “He’s fine.”


    “Zoe, you’ve got high standards. That guy’s so great, and you think he’s just fine?” Lena said with augh. “I don’t have a daughter, but if I did, I’d definitely want him to be part of the family.” It was clear that Lena had taken a liking to Josh.


    “You could always have another one,” I teased.


    Usually, she might have thought I was being disrespectful, but there had been newstely about a grandmother in her sixties having a baby, and it was all over the media.


    Lena chuckled, “I don’t have that kind of ability, so don’t tease me.”


    I just smiled, not responding, but Lena kept going. “You should start sorting through your things too. Anything you don’t need, throw it out or sell it. I know a guy who buys scrap. He pays well and is a really nice person. I’ll give you his number. You can sell him anything you’re getting rid of.”


    Her enthusiasm was so warm that I felt guilty even thinking about turning her down.


    Lena left me with the number and went on her way while I headed upstairs.


    I opened the door <i>to </i>my apartment and looked around at all the memories. Suddenly, my eyes stung.


    Some things, it seemed, just couldn’t be kept, no matter how desperately you wanted to.


    Eliseo had always told me that if something couldn’t be held onto, I should let it go. I knew the demolition was unavoidable, so after a brief moment of sorrow, I began assessing the house and packing.


    32%


    I still needed somewhere to stay but couldn’t touch my parents‘ things, so I started with the utility room.


    As I sorted through everything, I decided to buy my house as soon as possible to move my parents‘ belongings


    there.


    The old bookshelf, the tricycle I rode as a child, Eliseo’s gardening tools, his fishing gear, Margery’s easel…


    These things were worn with age, yet I couldn’t bring myself to part with them.


    While packing, I realized how important it was to have my ce to keep these memories safe.


    Then, beneath everything, I found an old woven basket. It immediately brought back memories, especially since


    there was a photo of me sitting on it when I was little.


    Eliseo had told me it was the bag he carried when he left the orphanage, like a suitcase.


    I opened it and found a dark blue vest–Eliseo’s. It reminded me of the green vest Josh <i>used </i>to wear.


    5


    Underneath the vest was a small notebook with a pen clipped to it. I flipped it open and saw Eliseo’s handwriting. Instantly, a familiar tightness gripped my chest, and I found breathing hard.


    Tears immediately fell, sshing onto the words Eliseo had written, smudging the ink and blurring the once–clear


    script.


    Iquickly tried to wipe it away, but in doing so, the notebook slipped from my hands, and something fell out from between its pages.


    I picked it up and saw it was a contract. As I flipped through it, I froze when I reached thest page, where the signature and seal were.


    AD