There was no reason someone would reach across three decades of silence to find me.
But curiosity is a stubborn thing.
I drove to the law office feeling foggy. The attorney was Dennis, a graying man with kind eyes and a voice like a warm blanket. He didn’t waste time.
“Charlotte left behind very specific instructions,” he said.
“She wanted us to locate you.”
“How did you even find me?” I asked, still not entirely believing it wasn’t a prank.
He smiled and pulled out a folder.
“She had a photo of you from when you were a child. You were holding a mug with marshmallows. Behind you, we could make out a school crest on your backpack.
We started from there. It took a while, but eventually we matched your face to an old yearbook archive. From there, people who knew you led us to your workplace.”
I sat back in the chair, stunned.
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