My Grandmother’s Legacy: The Angel in Disguise

For me, it was an envelope. Inside was a $50 gift card to a local department store — nothing special, just a generic, all-purpose card with no note attached. Just my name on the envelope in her delicate cursive.

At first, I didn’t think much of it. It was a kind gesture, though somewhat out of character. Grandma wasn’t one to give gift cards; she believed in hand-written letters and thoughtful gifts. A gift card seemed… impersonal, almost.

I considered donating it or regifting it to someone who might need it more. But something about it nagged at me. Maybe it was the fact that it was the last thing she ever gave me.

So I went to the store one Saturday afternoon, thinking I’d pick up a new coat or some household items.

I handed the card to the cashier without much thought. But then — something strange happened.

She scanned the card, paused, then looked up at me with wide eyes. Her expression shifted from boredom to confusion. She scanned it again.

Then she called for the store manager.

A Secret Revealed

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