“I did. Sorry. Go on.”

“The second one is that I didn’t know if it was real.” She pulled her knees up. “Mom, he was in the garage. It could have been anything. It could have been a video he made when he was sad, or a joke I didn’t get, or something from before.

I was ten. And I knew — I don’t know how I knew, but I knew — that if I brought you something about Dad and it turned out to be nothing, it would break you.

And if I brought you something and it was something, then the man who followed me home from school was real.”

She stopped.

“And the third one.”