He had no memory of downloading it. It wasn’t a work project or a photo backup. It was just there—the eighth iteration of a file that apparently kept finding its way onto his hard drive.
The file sat on Elias’s desktop like a digital stowaway: . g (8).zip
She handed him the sketchpad. It wasn’t a drawing of the tree; it was a map of a path he hadn’t taken yet, leading toward a future he’d been too afraid to start. He had no memory of downloading it
