Two decades after her son Daniel’s disappearance, Susan Whitaker stumbled upon a scratched Game Boy at a church yard sale. Etched into its back were the crude initials “D.W.”—the same ones Daniel had carved as a child. The sight of it was like lightning through her grief, proof that a piece of her son had survived. That forgotten toy, donated from a storage unit, became the fragile thread connecting past and present.
Continues…
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