Lonely Old Man Invites Family to Celebrate His 93rd Birthday, but Only a Stranger Shows Up

Arnold sat alone in his worn armchair, his tabby cat, Joe, curled in his lap. The air in the little cottage on Maple Street was heavy with silence, save for the rhythmic creaking of the rocking chair. At 93, Arnold’s hands trembled as he stroked Joe’s orange fur. The light filtering through the dusty windows fell on a photo album perched on the table—its pages filled with memories frozen in time. “You know what today is, Joe?” Arnold whispered, his voice barely louder than the ticking clock on the wall. “Tommy’s birthday. He’d be 42 now.” He opened the album,… CONTINUE READING…