“Good luck with that, cousin.”
The door slammed. Her car roared to life and disappeared down the driveway.
I bent down, picked up the second envelope, and tore it open.
“If you’ve chosen to stay, my dear boy, then good. That means I taught you right. Look around you. At the memories. I’m always there. Everywhere. Even in the mirror — Grandpa.”
I bent down, picked up the second envelope.
I stared at the words: “Everywhere. Even in the mirror.”
What did that mean?
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