Dad noticed me, he slammed the lid shut. His face stayed calm, but his voice was too steady, too rehearsed.
I froze when I saw it. Inside the metal toolbox wasn’t tools at all—it was a stack of Polaroid photographs, rubber-banded together. My dad carried it like it weighed nothing, but when I lifted the lid earlier, it felt unbearably heavy, as though the box itself didn’t want me to see. The photos… They were … Read more