It was a monument to a devotion that had received nothing back for years and had refused, anyway, to die.

And almost every one ended with the same line, written at the bottom in his careful hand.

I am still your brother.

“She never answered,” he said, staring down into the box.

“Not one.

In all those years, she never wrote back a single time.

I figured she’d forgotten me.

Or that they told her not to.