I covered my mouth.
Something in me broke.
He kept it hidden.
He could not return the camera. The others would have known exactly who had taken it, and Owen was frightened of what they might do.
So before they sold it, he removed the memory card.
He kept it hidden.
That same night, he left.
Your kindness did not magically make me a good man, Nora. But it was the first time in years anyone treated me like I might still be worth becoming one.
He left.
He wrote that his life changed slowly after that. Eventually, he became successful enough to find people he once thought were impossible to find.
He did not explain how. Only that he had finally found me.
Then came one line by itself.
The camera belonged to your son. The memories belonged to you.
Owen apologized.
I considered closing everything.
He said perhaps the photographs would contain nothing I had not already seen.
