I Helped a Lost Grandmother on My Night Shift – the Next Morning, Her Daughter Handed Me a Shoebox and Said, ‘This Is Going to Change Your Life’

“Wrong file, wrong guy. I’m sorry for whatever your family went through, but this isn’t me.”

Tara nodded, but she rested her hand on the shoebox.

“I’m leaving these with you anyway,” she said. “If you can make head or tail of this, you have my number.”

When the door closed behind her, the apartment felt too quiet.

I stared at the folder.

Then I picked up my phone and called Lisa.

“Hey, honey,” she answered. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

“I need to ask you something,” I said. My voice sounded wrong to my own ears.

“About my adoption.”

There was a pause. Not long. Just long enough.

“We were told your mother signed everything,” she said softly.

“We were told it was clean. We were told you didn’t have anyone.”

“I know,” I said. “I’m not accusing you.

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