Eli Returns Home
I stood on the porch long after Linda had closed the door. The weight of her words pressed down on me: “Your father was buried a year ago.” I felt like I’d been erased along with him.
The house no longer smelled like the man I had known. The familiar creaks and scents were replaced with silence and strangers’ things. I didn’t want to believe it. I wanted to knock again, to scream, to demand answers—but I had nothing left.
Walking away, the neighborhood felt alien. I ended up at the cemetery, the one place that might hold the truth.
The Letter and Storage Unit
The cemetery was quiet, overshadowed by tall pines that seemed to guard secrets. As I pushed open the gate, a man named Harold approached. His eyes held years of stories.
When I asked about my father’s grave, he shook his head. “He’s not here,” he said softly, handing me an envelope my father had left, meant for me.
Inside was a key, a letter, and a card for Unit 108 at Westridge Storage. The letter explained everything: my father had been sick, feared Linda, and wanted me to find the truth away from her control.
He warned me not to confront Linda before retrieving the evidence stored in that unit. My heart hammered as I realized he had planned this all along, even while dying.
Later that day, I found Unit 108. The key fit, and inside were neatly organized boxes filled with photos, legal papers, bank statements, and a flash drive taped to a note: “Watch before you read.”
