In a quiet village nestled between two hills, there lived an old woman named Miri. Her home was small, her hands were wrinkled, and her days were slow. But Miri was known for something rare: her kindness. She kept a little box of candles, each said to carry a blessing when lit with a sincere heart.

Every evening, Miri would sit by her window, light a candle, and whisper a prayer - not for herself, but for someone in need. One night for the baker's sick wife, another for the farmer's lost cow, another still for the lonely boy by the well. Over the years, the village quietly changed. Sickness faded, the crops grew rich, and laughter returned to silent homes.

One cold evening, Miri reached into her box and found only one candle left. She smiled and looked out the window. Snow fell softly, blanketing the roofs. She lit the last candle and whispered, "For whoever needs it most."

The next morning, Miri didn't wake up. But when the villagers found her, they noticed the candle still burning, its flame steady despite the wind that crept in through the door. They gathered around, weeping, then smiling - each remembering how her blessings had once touched their lives.

And from that day on, whenever someone in the village lit a candle for another, they'd say, "Like Miri did."

And so, her light never really went out.

The End.