She tapped the folder.

The phone buzzed with a low-battery warning. 15%.

She scrolled faster. A concert where she’d been too short to see the stage, so the video was just a sea of phone lights and the bass thrumming through the speakers. A failed sourdough starter bubbling like a science experiment. The “shelfie” of her first published book—a tiny, proud moment she’d never shown anyone.

Her father had died eighteen months later. That video was the last time she heard him laugh.