As Sam stood over his late father’s home-office desk, his father’s last words echoed through his mind.
“My laptop… protected folder… ‘To Sam’… password… ‘145t14uGH’.”
While Sam booted up his father’s computer, he recalled all the good times he and his father had. All the late nights discussing philosophy, their football Sundays, and the practical jokes they traded back and forth. Sam found the protected folder his father spoke of. He double clicked it. A window popped up, prompting for a password. Sam began to type.
Sam remembered a moment in his childhood where he played a game of catch with his father.
Sam recalled the first basketball game his father took him to. It was the Boston Celtics vs. Seattle Supersonics. Seattle beat Boston, and Sam was heartbroken, because his favorite color is green.
Sam reminisced about a prank war they had years prior. His father hit the circuit breaker when the New Year countdown hit zero in 1999, scaring a young Sam to the point where to this day countdowns give Sam slight anxiety. However, years later, Sam countered by making his father believe he had won a large sum of money with a fake scratch-off ticket.
The folder opened to reveal a single .DOC file. The file name: “I love you, son”
Sam broke down crying. He had lost not only his progenitor, but his best friend. The reality of finality struck him, and he could no longer hold back all the tears that the shock of his father’s death kept at bay. Sam wiped tear after tear off his moistened, red face until his vision cleared enough for him to focus on the screen; the screen which contained a father’s true, final message to his only living heir. Wiping yet another tear while somewhat regaining his composure, Sam double-clicked the file. The contents were displayed to him, and he read the very first line.
“But I win, pervert!”
The file contained Sam’s browser history.