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PART 2
A little boy stood in the doorway.
He was holding a plastic dinosaur in one hand.
For one second, I could not move.
He looked up at me with curious eyes and called over his shoulder:
“Grandpa?”
My heart nearly stopped.
Then a woman rushed behind him and pulled him back gently.
Her eyes fell on the Polaroid in my hand.
Her face changed instantly.
“Oh my God,” she whispered.
I could barely breathe.
“My son,” I said, holding up the photo. “That boy is my son.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“That’s my husband.”
Her name was Rachel.
She invited me inside with shaking hands.
The house was small and old, but it was full of life. There were children’s drawings on the refrigerator, worn shoes by the door, and a family photo on the wall.
