Synopsis

The chipped ceramic felt cool beneath my fingertips, a stark contrast to the heat rising in my chest. A simple gesture – offering Mrs. Henderson a cup of tea while canvassing the neighborhood – had unlocked something unexpected. Her trembling hand, as she accepted the brew, had brushed against a faded photograph tucked within her apron pocket. A photograph of him. The man in the picture was a ghost from a decade past, a face I’d seen countless times in police files but never truly *felt*.