Desperate, I took Leo to a community center offering free legal aid. We needed help fighting the fraudulent eviction, though hope was dwindling.
While I waited for my turn, Leo, restless, wandered into an adjacent room. Through the open door, I saw an elderly man, his white hair neatly combed, sitting at a table. He was speaking quietly to a small group of people.
“Welcome,” the man said, his voice gentle. “My name is Kenji Tanaka. I’m a retired historian, specializing in immigrant family histories.”
Leo, captivated, sat down. He pulled the locket from his pocket and started fiddling with it, turning it over and over.
Mr. Tanaka noticed him. He paused his lecture and smiled.
“That’s a lovely piece, young man,” he said, his eyes crinkling. “May I see it?”
Leo, usually shy, walked right up and handed him the locket. Mr. Tanaka’s eyes, sharp and intelligent, widened as he saw the inscription.
He gasped softly, a look of profound recognition crossing his face.
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