She was always quiet, lonely, with the same gray coat and a bag with a ripped castle. < img src = "https://zycie.news/crrops/57204f/620x0/1/0/2024/12/08/ibcypkkqgpnfhh24gbbamfusxxxxx4qqlm0uavylkw9.jpg" alt = "old lady @pexels" styles = "background-color: rgba (81,81,81,1)" > < p > m & oacute; not much, most often & ampquo; good morning & rdquo; and & do you pom & oacute; c &.
< p > at the beginning they were small things. Take garbage, bring shopping, pick up medicines from the pharmacy. And I ? I had time. Adult children, husband at work, house empty.
< p > I just felt sorry for her. Began to open.
< p > talked about her youth, that everyone left her. About lonely holidays. About diseases. < p > I listened. Sometimes I brought soup. I helped clean the nurse before visiting. < p > m & oacute; Wiła: < br />< br /> & amp. & AMP; BDQUO; You are like C & Amp; Oacute; Rka, which I have never had. < p > I believed. Because good comes back, truth ?< p > but over time the requests turned into demands.
< P >& Amp; MDASH; & AMP; BDQUO; I need to paint the kitchen. & Amp; RDQUO; < br /> & amp. & AMP; BDQUO; Why can't you go shopping in the evening ? & < br /> — & AMP; BDQUO; You don't do anything anyway. ” < p > more and more often began with sentences: < br />< br /> & amp. & AMP; BDQUO; Since you have already got involved … &
< p > and kt After a few weeks of fatigue, your own problems and b & oacute; oacute; w & ndash; I said:
< p > — & AMP; Bdquo; Mrs. Heleno, I can't do it today. I have my own affairs. & Amp;
< p > silence. And then a cold look.
< p > — & AMP; BDQO; AHA. So if there is no benefit, you are not so good anymore. “& Amp;< p > stuck me.
< p > — & but I don't want anything in return & & &— & AMP; Bdquo; you are all like that. You pretend and then leave. No one can trust. < p > p & oacute; < p > that I cheated her. That I promised and now I'm denied. Nobody asked how it really was. Nobody thought that maybe this goodness had boundaries. That help is not an obligation, but a select & oacute; r.
< p > today we pass on a cage without a word.
< p > her look & ndash; hard, full of bitterness.
< p > and there is something in me that hurts more than fatigue: disappointment. Because I wanted to do well. Not for thanks. For man. < p > but I understood that not everyone can accept good without pr & oacute; to seize all you.< p > sometimes mercy leads straight into the trap of manipulation.
< p > and there is nothing left after it, only a quiet, empty staircase.