It was a chilly autumn afternoon in Madrid when eleven-year-old Marcos wandered past the neighborhood dumpsters, searching for empty bottles he could sell.
His mother, Anna, worked as a cleaner, and money was always tight. As he walked along a stylish street, something unusual caught his eye: a man in an expensive suit tossing a leather jacket into a trash bin.
“Excuse me, sir, may I take that jacket? My mom is cold,” he asked softly.
The man didn’t even glance at him, waving him off before getting into a sleek black car. Marcos carefully lifted the jacket, thrilled to surprise his mother. At home, Anna scolded him at first.
“You shouldn’t be picking things from the trash, son.”
“But Mom, it’s clean. Look – it looks brand new,” Marcos insisted.
Anna sighed, touched by his thoughtfulness. She draped the jacket over a chair and continued cooking dinner. Marcos, meanwhile, reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick, sealed envelope. Curiosity and excitement took over as he opened it. Inside were stacks of banknotes.
