Axel and I decided to search the attic where my mother kept things from our past. It was mostly old boxes full of junk we didn't use, but I figured there might be some kind of clue we could find.
I pick up the first leather-bound journal, my fingers trembling. But when I opened it, I sighed in disappointment.
"What is it?" Axel asks.
"Nothing. Just some old phone numbers. Half of it is empty pages," I reply.
"Let's keep digging," Axel says. He is nervous. I can tell by the way he is chewing his lip and cracking his knuckles.
We go through the stacks of old journals, photographs, and mementos. The scent of musty paper fills our nostrils. We are both focused and determined to find out what's going on.
I hear a creak from behind me. I turn around and see Axel opening a trunk with my na
