I recognized it instantly.
It was exactly the one Hannah and I made together when she was 11!
We made it on a quiet winter afternoon, sitting at the kitchen table during a snowstorm. I remember how she had insisted on making that bracelet.
We spent all afternoon weaving thread. The knot at the end came out crooked, but Hannah just laughed and said it made it special.
She wore it every day after that — even on the night she vanished.
I stared.
The cup almost slipped from my hands because of how much it trembled.
“Excuse me,” I said, my voice barely audible over the music and clinking mugs. “That bracelet… where did you get it?”
He blinked, taken aback.
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