The crate loomed in the living room for two days, its silence heavy with unspoken words and memories. Damon stared at it frequently, his emotions a turbulent sea of confusion and melancholy, wrestling with the recollections Rafael had entrusted to him. Each glance evoked echoes of laughter, loss, and the bittersweet taste of nostalgia.

On the morning of the third day, he made his way to the woodshed, the air crisp and still around him. He emerged with a sturdy hammer and a long, metal pry bar, ...