Even with all the photos surrounding her…the albums…boxes of loose Polaroids…she still couldn’t seem to keep track of his face.
She was losing him. The details. The feel of his 5 o’clock shadow against her face when he kissed her hello. The smell of his cologne wafting behind him.
His razor still sat next to the sink. Toothbrush dry in the cup. Suit laid out on the bed. Ready to be worn. Forever.
She’d had a different forever in mind.
Placing her hand on her belly, she felt a kick and hoped he would look like him.
So she’d never forget.
You can follow the series on Medium, as well.