But as the day went on, something strange began to stir inside me. That night, I couldn’t shake the feeling. It wasn’t that I was terrified, but there was something unsettling about what had happened. I couldn’t help but wonder why I was even thinking about the words of a beggar, and why his prophecy bothered me so much.
My friend, however, seemed unbothered. He took the money from my hand and went out to buy some food. He laughed at the whole situation, clearly not taking it seriously at all. But me? I couldn’t spend the money. I didn’t want to touch it. The weight of it in my pocket felt like a heavy burden I couldn’t escape.
I sat by the window, watching the last light of the day fade. My heart was heavy with questions. Who was that sick little boy? And why did he give me that money with such an ominous warning? What if he was right? What if I really only had three days left?
Had I done something wrong? Had I hurt someone without realizing it? Was there something, or someone, planning my death?
As the night wore on, I couldn’t help but feel the shadows of doubt creep in. I was beginning to feel the weight of his words, the gravity of what had been said. And the more I thought about it, the more uneasy I became.
