“Let her go!” I demanded.
The guard accused her of hiding something she’d taken from a display.
My mother, trembling in her lavender cardigan, slowly reached into her pocket and pulled out a tiny gold locket.
“See? I knew you were hiding something!” he exclaimed.
But when she opened it, his expression changed completely.
He stared at the two faded photographs inside, stumbled backward, and whispered, “Where did you get that?”
Then he began crying.
I looked at the photographs myself.
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