I Visited My Husband’s Grave Every Day – Until I Found a Shivering Girl There Holding His Photo

I sliced a grilled cheese sandwich into four neat triangles and placed it beside her like I had muscle memory for comfort.

She ate slowly but didn’t leave a bite behind.

“You live alone?” She stared into her bowl.

Vicky’s spoon paused midair. Then she set it down and didn’t say anything.

“You said you were looking for someone, Vicky,” I said gently.

“Can you tell me who? Maybe I can help.”

“It’s hard to explain,” she said, her eyes flicking toward me, uncertain.

After a long pause, she reached into her coat pocket and unfolded a worn, crumpled photograph. She held it out across the table.

I took it without thinking.

It was Lucas, my Lucas.

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