The next morning brought another message from Marten. This one was far more personal and painful, and it completely changed my perspective.
To help us understand his loss, he also attached a photo of his mother. It was a sweet picture of an elderly woman with kind eyes and silver braids, sitting in the very same kitchen where we had made coffee just the day before.
The final line of that message was heartbreaking: “I miss her so much,” the message said. “The house still smells like her lotion.”
At that point, I felt a wave of guilt. I had written a very scathing review, accusing him of privacy invasion. That review already had dozens of likes and comments from people piling on with anger and outrage. But how could I have known the true story behind the camera?
Namira was also conflicted. “What if he’s just trying to guilt us into deleting the review?” she wondered aloud.
“Maybe. But what if he’s not?” I replied.
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