Searching for clarity
I decided to search for old family photos, letters, anything that could provide clarity. Creeping through the darkened house, I made my way to the attic.
The air was musty, and the wooden floorboards creaked beneath my feet. I rummaged through old boxes, hoping to find something that would explain my father’s favoritism.
Each dusty item I handled felt like another piece of a long-forgotten puzzle, one I was desperate to solve.