The date recurred to him like an old habit that wouldn't stay dead. But why, what was it? He thought on it more than once the past month and even slept on it many a night, but its relevance eluded him. He could think of no significance to that day in any of the years of his life. He set the diary down, brushing his arm against his late wife's jewelry box. A silver chain fell, the locket it looped through filled the quiet room with a dull thud as it struck the floor. The locket falling was a trivial matter that would normally be forgotten as quickly as a brief August breeze if not for the name inscribed on the front of it.