The Folder

I found the folder in the filing cabinet

when I was looking for something else.

I wasn't looking for him.

Yellowed manila. His name typed neatly.

Dates. Places I didn't recognize.

A list of something stamped CONFIDENTIAL.

I held it for a minute.

Didn't open it all the way.

There's a part of you that knows

you're not supposed to understand

what someone else had to survive.

Like opening it fully would be

a kind of theft, taking something

that was meant to stay sealed.

The insignia in the corner

still looked official, still looked like authority

over something I wasn't cleared to know.

I put it back.

I didn't tell anyone I'd found it.