The Sorting Begins

Luke began the slow task of sorting through old boxes stacked against walls and tucked under tables. Some were stuffed with yellowed papers, others with fragile black-and-white photographs. Rusting tools sat forgotten beside worn shoes and faded notebooks. “You really kept everything,” Luke muttered with a half-smile. Each object stirred a memory—puzzles near the fireplace, camping trips, stories Grandpa whispered as though they were secrets. The house wasn’t empty; it was a museum preserving their bond.
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