Pressing Play
When I pressed the button, a flicker of hope sparked—nervous yet desperate for answers. My head swarmed with questions as the mechanism clicked down with a hollow thud. Karen sat close, her hand gripping mine in silent support. The gentle whir of the tape filled the air, a haunting prelude to the secret it was about to disclose. For a moment, time itself seemed to pause, balanced on the edge of what I was about to hear.
Pressing Play
A Voice From The Past
I leaned in, breath caught in my chest, as a small, familiar voice poured into the room. It was Hannah—alive in sound, as clear as if she were standing there. “Hi, Mommy,” she said, her sweet tone wrapping around me, stealing my breath. My heart skipped painfully. Karen whispered, tears welling, “She sounds exactly like I remember.” Those words, so innocent yet heavy, made this discovery more painful—and more necessary—than I ever could have imagined.
A Voice From The Past
