“This was scanned from your grandfather’s archive.”
It was an old photograph.
Four men stood in front of a brick building, all much younger. One was clearly my grandfather, tall and broad-shouldered, with the same serious eyes I remembered from family portraits.
Beside him stood another man with sandy hair and a familiar half-smile.
My hand went cold.
Mark had that smile.
Not exactly.
But enough.
I turned the photograph over.
Names were written in faded blue ink:
