watermarks. But the sender was meticulous; they left no breadcrumbs, no hints, and absolutely no way to trace the gesture back to a source.
There was never a name, a nickname, or even a single initial to provide a lead. It was as if the card simply materialized out of thin air, a ghost of a gesture intended solely for my son. This anonymity added a layer of reverence to the ritual, turning a simple card into a sacred artifact of his childhood.
When Adrian turned thirteen, the dynamic shifted.
