In a quaint old house on the corner of Maple Street lived an 80-year-old woman named Mary. Mary was a kind soul, with a gentle smile that spoke of the stories she held within.
Over the years, she had developed a peculiar habit of hoarding newspapers. Stacks upon stacks of newspapers piled high in every corner of her home, each page a piece of history she couldn’t bear to part with.
Mary’s daughter, Susan, worried about her mother’s growing collection. She watched as the newspapers took over the once cozy living room, creating narrow pathways between the towering stacks. Susan knew that something had to be done to help her mother before the newspapers swallowed her whole.
One day, as sunlight filtered through the dusty windows, Susan sat down with Mary at the kitchen table.
“Mom,” Susan began gently, “I think it’s time we do something about all these newspapers. They’re taking up so much space, and it’s getting hard to move around.”
Mary’s eyes fli…