I plowed my way upstairs, continuing past the guest room, and my room.

It had remained the same way it was when I was five or so. Just looking at it brought back so many different things for me.

Even my old stuffed animals were watching from the shelves; I even reached a tentative hand out to touch them, trying to brush the threadbare tapestry of memory laid out before me.

I walked to Papa’s study.

The mahogany desk stood proudly in the middle of the room, its legs sinking into a hunter green carpet.

I sat myself into the old chair, making it squeak under my weight.

I went through all the drawers, and found nothing of interest, but decided to try something I hadn’t done since I was a toddler.

I toggled the cherry on the carving of the desk, and the secret drawer shot out, hitting me in the stomach, like it always did when I young.

Finally, I came across a brown envelope.

I opened it, and drew out the papers.

Several names shouted out at me from the piles.