My grandfather kept an old photograph in his wallet for over 30 years. On the back was a phone number with no name. He never told me who it belonged to, and he never called it. After his funeral, I dialed it from his kitchen phone. When the voice on the other end answered, I froze.
For as long as I can remember, my grandfather kept an old photograph in his wallet.
The corners had gone soft and rounded from years of handling. It showed a little girl with a wide, toothless grin. She looked so much like me the first time I noticed it.
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