It wasn’t his imagination.
And it wasn’t just the medallion.
You have to tell me when Ana was born.
Maria looked at him suspiciously.
Why?
- Please.
— April 17, 1991.
Grigore closed the eye.
The date was exactly the one he had been wearing in his memory for 35 years.
Long before he became a priest, Gregory had been a 24-year-old who thought he knew what his whole life would look like.
And he loved Elena.
They knew each other in college.
They had been together for almost two years.
Elena was pregnant.
Gregory still remembered the night when she had told her.
She was scared.
But happy.
“We can handle it,” he said.
Two weeks later, Elena was gone.
Her family had moved.
His letters were back.
The phone had been disconnected.
And after a few months he had received only one letter from Elena’s mother.
“The pregnancy was not taken to term. Elena doesn’t want to see you anymore. Please stop looking for it.”
