Memories of those musical evenings in our living room flooded back.
I collapsed into Dad’s chair, crying so hard that Frank had to support me.
He stayed until I’d calmed down, then quietly left.
While putting the pictures away, I noticed something metallic beneath the vest.
It was a key with a small tag bearing an unfamiliar address.
I turned it over, searching for an explanation.
Nothing.
There was no note anywhere in the box.
I grabbed my jacket and car keys.
The address led to the edge of town, beyond warehouses and an abandoned gas station.
Despite living here all my life, I couldn’t recall visiting this area.
I checked the tag again. The address matched.
“What were you doing out here, Dad?” I whispered.
I circled the building, looking for clues. There was no sign, no parked vehicles, and nothing visible through the windows.
