I couldn’t do it.
I moved the mouse over the little ring.
I clicked.
The folder opened.
Inside were dozens of files. Pictures. Documents. A spreadsheet. And at the very top, sorted first, one video file.
It was named START HERE — FOR LEE.
For Lee.
My name. The name only he called me.
My hand hovered over the mouse. My fingers had gone cold.
I double-clicked.
The video opened. It took a second to load.
And then there was Mark.
He was sitting in the chair I was sitting in right now. In this room. The same wall behind him, the same calendar from the lumber yard. He was wearing his gray work shirt. The light from the window made his face look tired and older than I remembered.
He looked straight into the camera.
He took a deep breath.
“Hi, Lee,” he said.
His voice was shaking.
“If you’re watching this, then either I finally worked up the guts to show you, or something’s happened and I can’t. I hope it’s the first one.” He gave a small, broken smile. “Knowing me, it’s probably the second.”
