I’d brought a cheap camera, which I didn’t fully know how to use, and it was shaking in my hand.
And in my wallet, behind the expired insurance card and a food receipt, I’d kept Daniel’s original note. It was faded, but still readable.
I’d brought a cheap camera.
I unfolded it with both hands.
I wondered if the girls would mention Daniel today. I wondered, even worse, if they’d wish he’d come instead.
I folded the note back up and stepped out into the heat.
***
The auditorium smelled of floor polish and cheap perfume. I sat seven rows back with my camera resting on my bad knee, trying to keep my hands steady. Twenty-two years of waiting for this exact morning, and I still felt as if I were about to drop a milk bottle.
I unfolded it with both hands.
***
The girls walked across the college stage one after another.
