She frowned. “Dad didn’t lock his drawers.”
“That’s what I thought too.”
But there it was—locked.
Suddenly, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Had it always been this way? Or had he locked it recently? And why?
I went to the closet and searched through Martin’s favorite jacket. Inside the pocket, I found the keys.
Back at the desk, Jane stood beside me. “You don’t have to open it right now.”
But I did. Something inside me told me it mattered.
With trembling hands, I slid the key into the lock.
Click.
Inside was a neatly tied stack of letters. Dozens of them.
My heart started pounding. Who even writes letters anymore? And more importantly… who had Martin been writing to?
I turned one of the envelopes over.
The moment I saw the name, my breath caught in my throat.
My vision blurred, but I needed to know the truth.
So I opened the first letter I could reach.
And when I read the first line… it felt like all the air had been pulled from my lungs.
FULL STORY in the first c0mment
