The photos remind me that he's real, that this is all really happening, that I can't touch him or talk to him when I need it, on my time. They remind me that there were and will be times much better than this, but that this isn't one of them. This time is for making debts.
I'm not sure why for five weeks this was easy and that now it isn't, not this week anyway. I don't want to be strong today. I want him to be here, to justify the photos that hold our place, for him to be strong enough for the both of us so that I can take a 10 minute break. I would like for him to walk up behind me, wrap one arm around my waist, pull the hair away from my neck with the other hand and kiss my skin, or at least to be able to imagine it without the bottomless ache.