Across the front, in faded blue ink, was my name.
Fran.
In Arthur’s handwriting.
“I cut the fabric open,” Eli said quietly. “Where it was sewn. This was tucked inside. Wedged up against the frame, right under the middle cushion. Where it sags.”
He looked at me.
“Did you know what he was hiding inside?” he asked.
I shook my head.
I couldn’t speak.
Eli carefully slid the package toward me.
“I only read the beginning,” he said. “The top page. It wasn’t sealed all the way. I thought maybe it was a receipt or a manual or something.”
He swallowed.
“It gave me chills,” he said. “I stopped reading. I didn’t think it was mine to read.”
I looked at the package.
At my name in Arthur’s handwriting. At the yellowed paper. At the layers of tape, some of it so old it had turned the color of tea.
With trembling fingers, I opened it.
Part Six: The First Page
The tape came away in brittle pieces. The paper underneath was soft as cloth.
Inside was a stack of envelopes. Dozens of them. Different sizes, different colors. Some white, some cream, some blue. Held together with a rubber band that snapped the moment I touched it.
On top of the stack was a single sheet of lined notebook paper. Folded in half. Arthur’s handwriting on the outside.
Fran. Read this first.
I unfolded it.
