I flipped it over.
A long seam ran across the bottom, stitched with bright red thread.
Liam had never known how to sew.
But Livia had.
My hands trembled as I pulled the thread loose.
The fabric tore open.
First came pale blue satin.
Then my daughter’s prom dress slid into my lap.
After that came envelopes. Dozens of them. All addressed to Liam.
Then photographs. A courthouse picture. A sonogram. A hospital bracelet. A tiny photo of a baby in yellow.
Finally, one sealed envelope fell near my foot.
