The world did not shatter dramatically.
There was no cinematic explosion. No collapse of walls. No thunder cracking across the sky.
Instead, everything became painfully, terrifyingly clear.
I stared at the frozen image on my phone screen.
The little girl holding the oversized hockey stick.
The missing tooth. The crooked smile.
The eyes. My eyes.
A strange ringing filled my ears.
For years, I had carried my father's memory like a sacred thing. Small. Fragile. Precious.
My father teaching me to skate.
My father waking before sunrise to drive me to tournaments.
My father cheering louder than every parent in the arena combined.
My father dying in what everyone called a tragic accident.
Simple. Clean. Finished.
Now a dead man was sitting inside a video recording telling me my fath
