At my father’s funeral, my brothers stood beside his coffin and mocked the black dress I had borrowed. “Dad left everything to us,” the oldest whispered. “You’ll leave here with nothing.”

Because Dad’s final call had not been confused.

His voice had been faint, but clear.

“Claire,” he whispered, “they changed my medication. Grant brought papers. Owen held my hand down. Celeste saw everything. Don’t come alone.”

Then there was a crash, a muffled curse, and silence.

The entire call had been recorded automatically through the compliance app I used for work. Dictionaries& Encyclopedias