At my twin sister’s graduation, my father lifted his camera for her name—then the dean said

the crowd broke into movement.

Families converging.

Laughter.

Tears.

Cameras flashing.

I stood near the edge of the stage for a moment, unsure whether to move or wait.

And then I saw them approaching.

Not quickly.

Not slowly.

Just… approaching.

My father reached me first.

For a second, neither of us spoke.

Up close, he looked older than I remembered.

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