The story narrated by the brown briefcase:
I am a brown leather briefcase. I guess it was a spring day when my owner and I were walking on the street. I was bulging with the files of MAHAK’s kids and the money paid by benefactors. That is probably why I caught the eyes of the thieves and got stolen in a blink. My owner screamed and ran all over the street following the muggers who escaped by a motorcycle. Finally, he stopped in disappointment and gradually went out of sight. My owner is one of the benefactors in MAHAK who likes to remain anonymous, and even I don’t hear him say his name very often. Throughout the years I have became part of his unknown personality.
My owner is a quiet middle-aged man who takes me with him everywhere he goes. I am generally filled with files of thin hairless children of MAHAK who always have a smile of their face. For many years, he and I have worked on different cases and carried around the money received from the supporters of MAHAK. We had never imagined that we would get separated like this. After all, it was my destiny to get stolen.
The story narrated by the letter:
I am the letter that was brought back to MAHAK along with the brown briefcase of one of the benefactors of MAHAK, which was stolen. When we arrived, the owner of the briefcase was shocked. I couldn’t believe that the thieves had sent back the bag without even touching it. However, he got convinced when he read me. I became a pleasant whisper repeated by him over and over:
“ Dear benefactor, we are sorry we stole the money of MAHAK’s children. We are returning the bag untouched with everything in it. We hope you can forgive us. Please send our best regards to all MAHAK’s lovely kids and we hope all of them heal from cancer.”
You can’t believe the story, can you? At first, I couldn’t believe it either, but it is true. A deep love has rooted in MAHAK that would soften anyone’s heart, even a thief’s.