The air was cold.
Most of the garden was dark, except for a small light next to Henry’s shed.
Graham walked ahead.
Then I noticed someone standing by the shed.
A hambre.
My heart says a jump.
He entered the light.
I gasped.
“¿Henry?!”
My husband raised both hands.
“Before you get angry…”
“You’re supposed to be four hours away from here!”
“I came back earlier.”
“What’s going on?”
Henry myró to Graham.
Then he looked at something large next to the shed covered with an old blanket.
“Did you tell him about the deal?” Henry asked.
“Apparently pretty bad”, Graham responded.
I stared at them.
“WHAT DEAL?”
Henry suspiró.
Then he removed the blanket.
Debajo was an anti-guo lumber.
I stopped breathing.
I recognized him immediately.
He had bought it from Marissa when he was six years old.
As a child, she spent hours sitting in front of that mirror, brushing her hair and pretending to be a movie star.
Then, when I was fourteen, everything changed.
One afternoon he dragged the dresser to the garage.
“I don’t want it anymore.”
“Because?”
He refused to look at me.
“I don’t want something in my room whose sole purpose is to make me look at myself.”
I cried after I went upstairs.
I thought Henry threw it away years ago.
Instead, he had saved it.
And now it was completely restored.
New paint.
Polished handles.
Cracked wood repaired.
Even the small splinter of the mirror was still there.
“Oh my God”, I whispered.
Henry myró to Graham.
“He helped me.”
I turned quickly.
“The deal.”
Graham asintió.
“Months ago, before asking Marissa to marry him, I spoke to Henry.”
Henry continued.
