Remember the fourth picture?
It was the one we said we'd get rid of. It was too posed. Cliche. Neither of us looked all that great.
When I got home I cut it off the strip like we promised. But I kept it. It's in a box, and that box is in a drawer.
Well, tonight I looked at it.
I needed to remember that. It was easy to remember myself. The me in the picture. But you... the you the in picture was gone.
It's not that I miss it.
But the speed with which this new you replaced the old one was startling, and well...
...it hurts.
I'm mad at myself. For letting it.
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