Ellie ran toward the window.
The man smiled immediately.
“Hey, kiddo.”
Then he looked past her.
And saw me.
His smile disappeared.
He stared at me.
Not dramatically.
Not like someone pretending to recognize a stranger.
He genuinely looked as though he were searching his memory.
I watched his face carefully.
Finally, he asked, “You’re Ellie’s mom?”
“Yes.”
He nodded slowly.
Then he said my first name.
“Sarah?”
I hadn’t told him.
My stomach tightened.
“Do I know you?”
He gave a nervous little laugh.
“Probably not anymore.”
That answer bothered me more than anything else.
“What does that mean?”
He looked at Ellie.
Then back at me.
For a moment, he seemed unsure whether he should say anything at all.
Finally, he reached beneath the counter.
“I think you need to see something.”
He pulled out an old photograph.
It was faded and creased, the edges worn from years of being handled.
