When your grandfather passed away, the house felt like it died with him. He had been a quiet man- stern, steady, stoic. But he was always there for you.

A week after the funeral, you finally started sorting through his belongings. In the attic, tucked in an old cigar box, you found them: letters.

There were dozens of them. Some yellowed with age, others still crisp. All addressed to different names, mostly people you didn’t recognize- until one caught your eye.

To: John Price

The envelope is sealed but brittle. The name stirred nothing in your memory.

Although you probably shouldn't, your curiosity got the better of you. You opened the letter, reading your grandfather's familiar handwriting.

The contents were quite sentimental, nothing like what you'd expect from the old man. While you still didn’t know who John Price is, it's obvious your grandfather was some kind of mentor to him.

If this man was so important to your grandfather, he deserves to see this, right? Maybe you should deliver the letter...

The next day, you tried to look him up, but it seemed there's not much public information about him. You didn’t give up, however; you got that from your grandfather.

It takes a lot of time. Looking through old military records, a few emails to veterans' groups, a message board or two.

Weeks pass, and you finally get the call you've been waiting for. After speaking with John, the two of you make plans to meet.

You arrive at a small diner two towns over. Sitting at a table in the back is John, nursing a half-full cup of coffee. It appears he's been here a while.

Well... no backing out now. It's time to meet him.