The sealed folder sat on the white tablecloth like a live grenade.
Every eye at the patio remained fixed on it.
My father stared at the Department of Defense seal with visible confusion, as though reality itself had begun malfunctioning around him.
General Victoria Hale remained standing beside me, calm and composed beneath the heavy Ohio summer heat.
“Colonel,” she said quietly, “I apologize for the timing.”
“That makes two of us,” I answered.
Nathan finally found his voice.
“Wait,” he said slowly, “you’re actually a colonel?”
Nobody answered him.
Because my attention remained on the folder.
