I tapped the steering wheel, trying to shake the weight on my chest, when I spotted a disheveled woman digging through a trash can. I slowed down, drawn in by her grim determination.
She looked fragile yet fierce, fighting for survival. Without thinking, I pulled over, rolled down my window, and asked, “Do you need help?”
Her response was sharp but tired: “You offering?”
“I just saw you there,” I admitted, stepping out. “It didn’t seem right.”
“What’s not right is life,” she scoffed, crossing her arms. “You don’t strike me as someone who knows much about that.”
“Maybe not,” I replied, then asked if she had a place to stay.
“No,” she said, and I felt compelled to offer my garage as a temporary home. To my surprise, she accepted, albeit reluctantly.
Over the next few days, we shared meals and conversations. Lexi’s sharp wit broke through my loneliness, but I could sense her hidden pain.
One afternoon, I barged into the garage and froze. There, sprawled across the floor, were grotesque paintings of me—chains, blood, a casket. Nausea hit me.
That night, I confronted her. “What are those paintings?”
Her face went pale. “I didn’t mean for you to see them. I was just… angry.”
“So you painted me as a monster?” I demanded.
She nodded, shame in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
I struggled to forgive her. “I think it’s time for you to go.”
The next morning, I helped her pack and drove her to a shelter, giving her some money. Weeks passed, and I felt the loss of our connection.
Then, a package arrived—another painting. This one was serene, capturing a peace I hadn’t known. Inside was a note with Lexi’s name and number.
My heart raced as I called her. “I got your painting… it’s beautiful.”
“Thank you. I didn’t know if you’d like it,” she replied.
“You didn’t owe me anything,” I said, reflecting on my own unfairness.
“I’m sorry for what I painted,” she admitted. “You were just… there.”
“I forgave you the moment I saw that painting. Maybe we could start over.”
“I’d like that,” she said, a smile evident in her voice.
We made plans to meet again, and I felt a flicker of hope for what could be.
Why you should always put a coin in the freezer before you leave home
When you get home from a trip, has your digital clock ever been reset? This usually indicates that there was a power outage, but it’s impossible to determine when and how long it lasted, so you can’t be sure if your food is still safe.
On Facebook, a woman by the name of Sheila Pulanco Russell provided a helpful trick for figuring out whether food in your freezer is still edible following a power outage.
I’ve heard a fantastic advice for those of you who are fleeing the coast. The one cup tip is what it’s known as, writes Sheila. “You fill your freezer with a cup of water. Place a quarter on top of it after it has solidified in the freezer and store it there.
This easy tip will tell you whether your food has gone bad. “You should discard the meal if the quarter has defrosted and dropped to the bottom of the cup. However, your food can still be fine if the quarter is either at the top or in the center of the cup.
For piece of mind, Sheila advises keeping the cup in your freezer at all times. “Just toss out the food if it doesn’t make you feel happy. The safety of all is the most important thing.
Kindly forward this advice to your loved ones; it could perhaps save a life.
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