I want to record what she said, because I remember it exactly, and because it is the single most consequential sentence anybody has ever spoken to me.

She looked at it — I could hear her opening it on her computer, the specific noise her old desktop made — and she was quiet for about four seconds, and then she said:

“Oh, honey.

I’m so sorry.

I really hoped I was wrong about her.”

I really hoped I was wrong about her.

Six words at the end of that sentence that did something to my head that a photograph could never have done on its own.

Because what that sentence does is tell you that this is not new information.