makeshift dresser. I moved to the other end, pulling away one of the boxes to reveal a small hole in the wall. My hand reached inside and felt for the small box. It was all I had left of my dad. A couple of photos and the only mementos Maryanne hadn’t stolen to be hocked or thrown away. My fingers closed around the ornate wooden box. I knew the feel of it by heart, taking it out every time I missed my dad.
