Caleb wiped his nose with the back of his sleeve, and looked down at his ruined sneakers, and when he spoke his voice was trembling so hard it was almost too quiet to hear.

“They weren’t cleared, Mom,” he whispered.

“I know you thought they were.

But they weren’t.

I found the letters.

Four months ago.

In the bottom of your closet, under the sweaters, in a shoebox.

The collection letters.” I felt something cold close around my heart, because I knew, now, exactly what he had found.