My fingers trembled.
This couldn’t be possible.
Ten years.
Ten impossible years.
I picked it up carefully.
The weight felt familiar.
The smooth edges.
The tiny scratch near the clasp.
My breathing became uneven.
“No…”
This time my voice cracked.
My thumb turned the bracelet over.
Please…
Please don’t…
Then I saw the engraving.
Tiny.
Slightly worn after years of use.
But unmistakable.
For Nana, from Mom and Dad.
My knees nearly gave out beneath me.
I stared at the words over and over, hoping they would somehow change.
They didn’t.
Tears blurred my vision.
I remembered the day we’d given it to her after her college graduation.
She’d laughed, wrapped both arms around me, and said, “Mom, now I finally have something expensive enough to make me look responsible.”
She wore it almost every day after that.
Especially…
The day she vanished.
My pulse pounded in my ears.
Someone bumped my shoulder while walking past, but I barely noticed.
I clutched the bracelet so tightly it pressed painful marks into my palm.
There was only one question that mattered.
Where had it come from?
I looked up sharply at the elderly vendor sitting behind the table.
He hadn’t noticed my panic.
He was completely absorbed in a crossword puzzle, pencil balanced behind one ear.
I leaned across the table.
My voice came out louder than I intended.
“Where did you get this bracelet?”
The man looked up, mildly annoyed.
“What?”
“This bracelet,” I repeated, barely able to breathe. “Who sold it to you?”
He glanced at it without much interest.
“Oh, that thing.”
My heart hammered harder.
“Please,” I said. “Tell me.”
He scratched his chin.
“Young woman brought it by this morning.”
Every muscle in my body tightened.
“What did she look like?”
He shrugged.
“Tall.”
I waited.
“Thin.”
“And?”
He looked back down at his crossword.
“Big head of curly hair.”
The world tilted.
Curly hair.
Exactly like Nana’s.
My fingers shook uncontrollably.
“Did she say her name?”
“No.”
“Did she mention where she lived?”
“Nope.”
“Which direction did she leave?”
He sighed dramatically before finally looking at me again.
“Lady, that’s all I know.”
I swallowed hard.
“Please… think.”
He folded the newspaper.
“Look, I buy things. People sell things. That’s how flea markets work.”
Then he pointed at the bracelet.
“If you want it…”
He leaned back in his chair.
“It’s two hundred dollars.”
I didn’t hesitate.
Not for a second.
I pulled cash from my wallet with shaking hands and placed it on the table before he had even finished counting the price.
He slid the bracelet toward me.
