searching through memories
That night, after putting the boys to bed, Viktor sat at the dining table surrounded by old photo albums and letters.
Each piece of paper felt like a fragment of his past. He flipped through the pages, hoping to find something—anything—that would offer answers.
The faces smiled up at him from the photographs, memories frozen in time. His fingers traced the contours of each image, the letters’ ink faint with age, but nothing seemed to hold a clue.