That question gnawed at him more fiercely than the explosives ever had. As the technician packed up and left, Walter stared at the disturbed earth, feeling the weight of someone else’s forgotten history pressing against his own, begging to be understood.
After the police left and the last engine rumble faded, Walter lingered in the yard, unable to shake a sense of unfinished business. As he gathered his tools, he noticed something half-buried near a root. It was a small leather pouch, softened by time, that the bomb squad had overlooked.