Three cardboard boxes in a hallway closet changed everything after forty years

pulled out three blue pocket diaries, their gold-stamped dates faded but still readable under the desk lamp.

“Here they are,” I said, laying them on the desk.

I opened the volume from three years ago, turning the thin pages until I reached the second week of October.

My fingers stopped on the page for October twelfth, where the ink was slightly darker continue reading …