Unmistakable handwriting
I dropped my purse on the hallway table and began sifting through the envelopes. Most of it was trash, but one thick envelope near the bottom caught my eye.
It had no return address, but the penmanship was unmistakable. A cold chill ran down my spine as I recognized the sharp, slanted cursive immediately.
It was my father’s handwriting, something I hadn’t seen since before my wedding. My heart started pounding against my ribs.