Credit: History Pictures

In the sweltering summer of 1947, a woman stepped into a drugstore in Tupelo, Mississippi, to drop off a roll of film for developing. Just before handing it over, she realized she had one exposure left. Glancing out the window, she spotted a young boy proudly astride a shiny new bicycle. On a whim, she called out to him and asked if he’d mind posing for her last shot. The boy smiled, struck a pose, and then rode off before she could catch his name. “What a handsome young boy,” she remarked to the clerk, handing in the completed roll.

When the prints came back, she slipped the photo of the boy into a shoebox already filled with papers and mementos and stored it away in her attic, forgotten over time. Many years later, while sorting through old belongings, she came upon the dusty box. Lifting the lid, she shuffled through the contents until her eyes fell on the faded photograph. She paused. There was something hauntingly familiar about the boy’s face.

She brought the picture under a lamp for a better look. As the light illuminated the young boy’s features, a shiver ran through her. Her hand trembled, and she dropped the photo onto the floor. After all these years, it suddenly hit her—those piercing eyes, that unmistakable smile. It was Elvis Presley.