I Donated My Late Daughter’s Prom Dress 20 Years Ago—Last Week, Someone Knocked on My Door Wearing It

but I saw it.

“What was that?”

Tanya frowned. “What?”

“That look.”

“I didn’t…”

“Don’t.”

“What was that?”

My voice stopped her.

Phoebe removed her coat.

“What did you write?”

I slid the letter toward her.

She unfolded it and began reading.

When she reached the line about Teresa dying alone, her hand shook.

I slid the letter toward her.

“Why did you write that?”

I continue reading …