16. The Single Word

“Sorry.” Written in Henry’s handwriting, the single word stood out starkly on the paper. What was he apologizing for? It seemed like an incomplete confession, raising more questions than it answered. As Edith pondered, a realization of finality struck her, as if Henry was concluding something he left unfinished, but the specifics remained elusive. She refolded the note with precision and placed it back into the envelope. The simplicity of the word carried a heavy burden of unspoken meanings. With a faint sigh, Edith acknowledged the lack of further explanations in that solitary apology, echoing like a whisper. She set the envelope on the nightstand, determined to revisit the workshop for closure, to delve deeper into the remnants of Henry’s life.