The pictures sit in a connected frame on his desk. One of them is a single girl, with blonde hair to her shoulders, hand up to her mouth, laughing towards the camera. She has blue nail polish on and several silver rings on her slim fingers. Her blue eyes sparkle in the bright sun of that day. The second picture shows the blonde girl surrounded by three friends. It's summer time, and the four girls are smiling widely at the camera.
The girls in the pictures are no more than eighteen years old. They stand closely together, and although the picture is two, three, four years old, it is perfectly preserved. Their faces are frozen to him in time as he gazes down at the double frame. Most people didn't ask about the pictures on his desk. The ones who did never expected much of an answer. He may be an important part of the firm, but everyone there knows he enjoys the quiet. His eyes travel over the four girls. Young, smiling, seemingly perfect.
Caleb wishes their lives were perfect.
He stands in line at some coffee shop, one whose name he can't quite remember, looking down at his shoes. Of course, he gets coffee every day, but the place always changes, and it doesn't really matter anyway. His shoes are caked with dirt from work, not that he minds. His shoes are always dirty. Stepping up to the front, he orders a black coffee, extra bold. He actually hates black coffee, but can't seem to get himself to order something else. He pulls out a five to hand to the guy, and accidently dislodges a picture from the depths of his wallet.
The picture is small, rectangular. It's worn around the edges, and smudged with dirt. He quickly brushes the dirt off, and rubs the picture on his shirt until it's clean. It's of a girl, laying on grass, propped up by her elbow. She smiles with an easy grace at the camera, her long brown hair swept over one shoulder, her eyes bright and happy, the exact same color as black coffee. A thousand flashbacks race through his mind. An alley, a book, the keys to a golden truck, a kiss, a laugh, a smile. The sting of a hand against his cheek. Her name pulses through his mind, a never ending beat. The guy calls his name for the third time, and he picks up his coffee and leaves.
Toby wishes he could forget.
He stands in line at the small cafe across from school, eyeing the poorly thrown together sandwiches and overpriced drinks. He picks up a turkey sandwich and a water and flips open his wallet to get his credit card. He pulls it out, and accidently removes a picture along with it. He hands his card over, pays and leaves. Sitting outside, he runs his finger over the picture.
The picture is of a small pale girl, with dark hair flowing past her shoulders. Silver earrings hang from her ears. The pictures edges are bent and faded, but the girls face remains clear. Her smile is wide and bright. Her eyes, round, chocolate colored and shining leap off the picture. He leans back in his chair, absorbing her smile, trying to feel the happiness she emits in the pictures. Sighing, he throws away his uneaten sandwich and walks back across the street.
Ezra wishes he were happy.
She opens up her locker with a bang, still on high from the latest win. She shakes her hair loose and almost knocks over a picture sitting on the top shelf.
The picture is of a tan girl, with black hair free falling in tangles past her shoulders down her back. The girl's smile is wide with laughter as she dries her wet hair with a towel. Her dark eyes are wide with surprise, the picture unexpected. Smiling sadly, she places the frame carefully back into its original place, and eases her locker shut.
Paige wishes they were together.
The picture sits front and center on the mantel, surrounded by other smaller mementos from the past year. The picture is large and silver framed, yet relatively simple. It is a girl's school, picture, junior year. A kind of slap in the face, the picture is, a reminder that the girl never made it to her senior year picture. But still, it sits. When asked about it she simples answer's "That's my daughter" in a way that stop people from further questioning. Most people know the story anyway.
Mrs. Hastings never forgot the day her youngest daughter ran away.
He gazes up at the picture on his desk as he grades papers. Your daughter's junior year, high school photo. He knows, years later, he should probably put it away, but his daughter's frozen smile stops him every time. He leans back in his chair and closes his eyes.
Byron never stopped wondering whether it was his fault his oldest child was gone.
She places her fingers to lips, and then to the picture as she leaves the house. It sits in a glass frame in front of the mirror. A young girl, seventeen, with short blonde hair smiling at the camera for her junior year yearbook photo. Her smile is bright, as are her eyes. Her face is young and beautiful.
Ashley Marin never stopped missing her only daughter.
Her hears the routine command, stands up, and places the picture is the front of his jacket. A small, wallet sized picture. The girl is no more than seventeen, sitting poised in her picture for junior year. He pats the picture and heads off to the unknown.
Mr. Fields never stopped believing in his only daughter.
Caleb takes one last look at the picture of Hanna before he closes the door.
Toby places the picture of Spencer back into his wallet as he returns to work
Ezra slide the picture of Aria into his wallet as he returns to class.
Paige gazes at the picture of Emily through the holes in her locker.
A thousand miles away, four girls clink their glasses together in a toast to perfection, to remembering, to happiness, to being together, to freedom.