The next afternoon, he came back.
Not because anyone asked him to.
He simply knocked on her door after school and asked if she needed anything from the store.
Grace looked surprised again — then deeply touched.
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From that day on, Harry kept returning.
Sometimes he brought leftovers his mother packed into containers.
Warm soup when Grace caught a cold.
Banana bread when there was extra at home.
Rice and chicken on days Grace admitted she had forgotten to eat.
Other times, he helped around the house.
He dusted shelves crowded with framed photographs, shook dirt from rugs, carried laundry baskets, and swept the kitchen floor.
Grace protested often.
“You shouldn’t spend your childhood doing chores for an old woman,” she would tell him.
Harry always grinned and kept working.
“I already do chores at home.”
“That doesn’t mean you need more.”
“It’s okay,” he’d reply.
And somehow, it truly was.
Before long, visiting Grace became part of Harry’s everyday life.
After school, he would stop by before starting homework.
On weekends, he helped pull weeds from her flowerbeds.
Rainy evenings were spent sitting beside her in the living room while old television programs played softly in the background.
Sometimes they talked for hours.
Sometimes they simply sat together in comfortable silence.
Over time, Harry learned all her little habits.
Grace liked tea with milk but no sugar.
She hated loud television commercials.
She always kept peppermints in a small glass bowl for guests — even though guests almost never came.
For illustrative purposes only
One evening, while an old black-and-white comedy flickered across the screen, Grace spoke quietly without taking her eyes off the television.
“You remind me of my grandson,” she admitted.
Harry looked over at her.
“I haven’t seen him in many years,” she added softly.
Harry wanted to ask questions.
