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... and a silver-colored envelope that my father left behind.

A hairpin that seemed to be a woman’s, the seal brooch my father always wore, and a couple of silver shoulder straps I presented to him on a winter day when I was sixteen.

While looking at them with trembling eyes for a while, I slowly reached out and picked up the silver envelope. Then, I opened it carefully to avoid damaging the content.

<Dear Tia,

I don’t know when I called your name for the last time. I know ...

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