Maple Street is like many others—lined with houses, trees that bloom in the spring, and sidewalks where children ride their bikes and dogs bark at squirrels. But at the edge of that seemingly ordinary street sat someone most people chose not to see.
An old woman.
No name that anyone knew. No family to call. No routine except sitting quietly on the curb near her building. Her clothes were clean but worn, her gaze distant yet heavy. Some assumed she was just another elderly neighbor passing time outdoors. Others avoided looking at her altogether.
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