The lawyer didn’t hand me a will or a stack of legal documents. He simply placed Gloria’s faded blue hospital bag into my hands. It was the same worn bag she had carried everywhere for years, refusing to let anyone else touch it. He looked at me with a calm expression and quietly repeated, “She chose you for a reason.” Before I could ask what he meant, he turned and walked away.
I drove home with the bag resting on the passenger seat beside me. During the entire drive, I kept glancing at it, wondering why it had mattered so much to Gloria. When I finally reached my apartment, I set it on the kitchen table and hesitated for several minutes before carefully unzipping it.
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