one brother whispered.
“Yes.”
The lawyer set the envelope down and gave me a small nod, the kind Russell used to give me across the breakfast table.
I picked up the box, the letter, and my coat.
Nobody stopped me.
Outside, the air smelled of rain.
I held the box against my chest the way I had once held my final paycheck, like something rare and fragile.
For a while, I expected victory to feel brighter.
It didn’t.
The first weeks were filled with paperwork, nausea, and rooms that echoed
