What Grandfather Left

After the funeral I sat alone in his emptied room. My father, sorting through the last of it, handed me a small box. Inside was an old smartphone, its corners worn smooth. "They say the will is in there. But it's locked, and nobody can open it." Grandfather always loved a riddle. He never simply handed over New Year's money — there was always something to solve first. I pressed the power button, and a scanned handwritten note appeared on the lock screen. A greeting that was his to the very end. I couldn't help laughing.