We stood in the kitchen together and stared at it. A boy, maybe ten, smiling in an old brown frame. Mom went white. "That's Danny," she said. "My little brother. He went missing when I was eight. This was our house first. I grew up here." The chat buzzed. The gray circle finally had a name. "Danny." Mom typed with shaking hands: "if it's really you, show me." The basement light clicked on under the door. A small shadow moved across it, back and forth, like a kid rocking on his heels. Mom opened the door and went down alone. We heard her voice go soft, like she was eight again. "There you are."