One afternoon, I found an old dusty box in the attic. It was locked, but I carefully opened it. Inside, I found colorful marbles, tiny toys, and a folded letter.
The letter was from my grandfather. It told stories about his childhood, the games he played, and the lessons he learned. I smiled and felt like I was meeting him even though he was far away.
I decided to keep the box safe and visit it often. The mysterious box taught me that old things can hold precious memories, and sometimes treasures are not gold, but stories that make our hearts happy.