He unfolded the letter with low expectations, assuming it would be another veiled criticism or a practical note. Instead, the words were unexpectedly careful, almost hesitant, as if his uncle were speaking a language he had never been fluent in. The letter described small moments he barely remembered: a ride given without complaint, a quiet visit after an argument, the choice to show up at the hospital when almost no one else did. His uncle admitted he’d never been good with warmth or words, but he trusted actions more than gestures, constancy more than charm.
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