It made me well up in a business meeting.
I was at a boatyard to survey a pair of old lock keepers cottages. There has not been a lock keeper at the site for over 100 years. The cottages were last lived in by a man and a woman, who were friends, but never a couple. They both moved in in the 1950s, the woman because she ran away from an abusive partner with two young dc and needed somewhere cheap, and the man because he was working on the canal. She baked for him, he helped her girls with their school work, they were neighbors and friends decades. The cottages were let by British Waterways, and the rent was very cheap, as they had no electricity until the late 1980s.
When electricity was out in, the old man went to the PO to get out some money to buy a fridge and a washing machine. He was followed home. That night his house was broken into, and he woke up with a knife at his throat. The intruders told him that they had a knife to the old lady’s throat too, and to hand over the cash. The old man handed over the cash, but the intruders stabbed him and beat him up anyway. He died of his injuries. The old lady was untouched.
It was all I could do not to burst into tears. What a horrific end to such a lovely story of lifelong friendship.