Every morning, at exactly the same time, the pensioner would walk out onto the porch of his house, where the same strange gift awaited him: a fresh loaf of bread wrapped in cellophane. The package bore a brightly colored label with the name of an unknown store. The name sounded unfamiliar, as if it belonged to another country, and the old man immediately had a feeling that something was wrong.
For the first time, he decided that perhaps it was his neighbors showing concern—someone had noticed his loneliness and decided to help with groceries.
He was even slightly touched, but still didn’t eat the bread—something inside told him that free gifts are never random.
The next day, the same story repeated itself: the same loaf, in the same packaging, in the same place. Then he thought that perhaps social services had launched some new program to support pensioners.
