I thought about that postcard long after Aron woke up from his nap and left. I didn't ask him about it, I didn't know how to, but I just couldn't get it out of my mind.
It had my name, it was in my handwriting, but I had absolutely no memory of ever having written it.
I remembered back to that strange thing Aron had said to me not too long ago, that I'd been a deciding factor in him applying to the police academy, that it had been my encouragement that had made the difference. At the time I had no idea what he was talking about, but if he meant this postcard then…
Then what?
I didn't write it, but at the same time, I clearly had. Had someone faked my handwriting? What would even be the point of doing that?
I tossed and turned that night and picked up my mum from the train station the next day with circles under my eyes.
"You look awful."
"Thanks, mum."
"Are you up to driving?"
