I laid out the note, the photograph, and the box on the table in front of her.
She read the note once without speaking.
Then she read it again.
“How old is this?” she asked.
“Forty years,” I said.
“It was hidden inside a mattress in my daughter’s room.
I found it yesterday.”
She turned the photograph over and looked at the date stamp on the back.
She looked at Clara’s four words.
