i. memory
Cold feet, mist on the windows. The candle has burned down to a puddle of wax on the table. It flickers; shadows dance on the walls.
He glides his finger over the photograph, over her face. Her smile. Her eyes unseeing, blind to the future. Frozen in a sheet of glossy paper, never growing old. Never dying. Never coming back.
He outlives her, of course. Once upon a time she said it will be all right. Mismatched eyes blink tears.
She's a pile of bones in her grave. In his hands she's a picture. In his heart she's a memory.