The Sorting Begins

Luke started the slow task of sifting through stacked boxes and forgotten items. Yellowed papers, fragile photographs, rusted tools, worn shoes—all preserved like a private museum.
“You really kept everything,” he muttered, half-smiling. Each object stirred memories: puzzles by the fireplace, camping trips, whispered stories. The house wasn’t empty at all—it was alive with Carl’s history, waiting quietly.
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