My grandmother lived a modest life. When she passed away, she left her small house and car to my cousins.
I became the family joke because she only left me her old, worn-out sofa. I took it to a guy to fix it up.
The moment he saw it, he turned pale and said, “Are you sure you want to restore this? It’s in awful shape.
You’d be better off getting a new one; it would be cheaper anyway.” I insisted because I knew how much the sofa meant to her.