Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 4567 | Page 139

“Dad? Daddy?” The year is now 1986. 54 years later. I’m back at the attic, with my wife and two children. My
Daughter, still asking me what that necklace was. What did I say? “I… I don’t know.” And with that, everyone
carried on going through the other towers of boxes, finding more plates with the occasional photo book. Why did
I say that? Because sometimes, it’s better to hide the truth than to tell it, just like how I put that necklace in my
pocket to keep.