Judith laughed lightly and lifted the lid. She pulled out the envelope with two fingers, as if it might be unpleasant. The whole room waited. She slid out a printed gray photograph, held it up to the candlelight, and frowned at it. I watched her eyes move from the top corner to the bottom. Then her smile slowly slipped away.

The photograph slipped from her fingers and landed on the white tablecloth, face up. Daniel leaned over, read the small printed caption, and put both hands over his mouth. Judith’s lips began to tremble. Then, in a voice I had never heard from her, thin and cracked, she whispered, “Priya, is this real?” Twenty relatives stopped breathing. I looked her straight in the eye, and I answered, and her whole face changed.