My mother kept a second phone hidden in her bedroom.
I found it by accident.
I wasn’t snooping.
I was looking for a charger.
The phone was inside an old shoebox.
It had one contact saved.
“Michael.”
I knew my father.
His name wasn’t Michael.
My roommate moved out without saying goodbye.
No argument.
No warning.
He just disappeared.
Three days later, I found a note taped under his bed.
It said:
“If you ever find this, check the kitchen wall.”
I checked.
Behind the cabinet was a hole.
Inside it was a small box.
And inside the box…
was a photograph of me sleeping.