Maria
My father stands beside a young Mikhail, and another man is beside him. From the looks of the photograph, they're out in the country somewhere. But unlike the familiar dour face I grew up with, my father is smiling here, practically laughing. His arm is slung around the other man like they're old friends.
"What the f**k?" I whisper. "Is this a sick joke?"
It has to be a joke. A fake created with AI. It has to be! I turn it over, and the only word written on it is Poconos. What does that even mean? My father doesn't go to the Poconos. He doesn't camp. He despises sleeping outdoors. When I asked to go camping in the sixth grade, he set up a tent in the living room instead of letting me sleep outside in the backyard.
And just who else is in the picture with him? Could it be Mikhail'
