moment, Dad.”
I looked down at the envelope in my hands. The moment of truth.
I tore it open. Inside was a single, folded piece of stationery.
My dearest Lena, it began.
If you are reading this, it means your father showed up on your doorstep, not with an apology for your life, but with a plea for his business. It means he weaponized my memory and used continue reading …
