Every day, a 70-year-old pensioner bought 40 kilograms of meat from her regular butcher. One day, the butcher decided to follow her, and when he discovered where all this meat was going, he called the police.
Every day the old lady entered the same butcher's shop. She was short, stooped, wearing an old coat and pulling a worn-out cart on wheels.
"As usual, forty kilos of beef," he said quietly, handing over carefully folded banknotes.
The butcher, a young man, was amazed every time. Forty kilograms! That was almost half of a whole animal. The first time he thought the woman had to feed a large family. But week after week, everything was repeated.
The woman barely spoke, never looked anyone in the eye; she took the packages and left. A strange, pungent smell came from her—a mixture of iron, rotten meat, and something else the butcher couldn't identify.
Rumors quickly spread through the market. Vendors whispered:
"They say he feeds his son's family.
" "Or that he feeds dogs.
" "Or maybe he has an illegal restaurant..."
