I kissed my wife goodbye and watched her drive off to work

a dusty repository of our shared past.

I was looking for anything from Sarah’s life before we met.

We’d been married for five years, but her stories of her childhood were always vague, painted in broad strokes.

I found a box labeled “High School Memories.”

Inside were yearbooks, old photos, and faded report cards.

I flipped through a photo album, seeing continue reading …