The old silver music box in the picture instantly brought back a memory he had spent nearly forty years trying to forget.

Harold’s fingers trembled so badly that he nearly dropped the photograph.

For a long moment, he simply stared at it.

The smiling young woman in the picture looked exactly as she had the last morning he had seen her alive in his memories—long brown hair blowing in the summer wind, her laugh frozen forever inside a faded piece of paper, the small silver music box pressed tightly against her chest.

He had carried that image in his heart for forty years.

He had never imagined he would see it again.