She said they would if I told.”

“Told who, buddy?”

He didn’t answer.

He reached into his back pocket and drew out a square of notebook paper folded up tiny, its creases soft and gray from being handled.

“She gave it to me before she went.

She said to read it every morning.”

I unfolded it.

Her handwriting slanted hard to the right, and the pen had torn through the paper on the last line.