Con Affetto, Vittorio Review

Among the stacks of yellowed receipts and garden seeds, she found a small, leather-bound journal. Tucked inside the back cover was a single envelope, addressed to no one and everyone. “To those who come after,” it began in Italian.

At the very bottom, in a hand that had grown shaky but remained resolute, were the words that now brought tears to Clara's eyes: Con affetto, Vittorio

The old desk in the corner of the study had remained untouched for years, its surface covered in a thin veil of dust that sparkled in the afternoon sun. Clara finally sat down, her fingers tracing the intricate carvings of the wood—the same desk where her grandfather, Vittorio, had spent his twilight years. Among the stacks of yellowed receipts and garden