At last, she rose, cradling the envelope against her chest. The floorboards groaned beneath her steps as she made her way back toward the door. The air of the attic clung to her clothes; dust, age, and secrets finally set free.
She paused at the threshold, glancing once more at the trunk in the corner, and whispered into the stillness, “I understand.” Then she stepped out, pulling the door shut behind her, leaving the attic, and her father’s silence, at last in the past.