She pushed herself upright.
For several seconds, she stood gripping the chair.
Her legs trembled.
Then she took one careful step toward the dresser.
Another.
She pushed herself upright.
I gripped my phone so tightly my fingers hurt.
Diane turned toward Ben.
She said something.
The camera’s microphone was too faint for me to understand.
But I saw her mouth move.
She said something.
Ben nodded and hurried down the hallway.
Diane reached behind the curtains.
She pulled out a black duffel bag.
I stopped beside the apple display.
Diane dragged the bag toward the chair and unzipped it.
She pulled out a black duffel bag.
I could see folded fabric inside.
Something white.
A folder, perhaps.
Then Ben returned.
He was carrying my blue box.
My mother’s box.
I could see folded fabric inside.
He set it beside Diane.
She reached for the lid.
I couldn’t watch another second.
