"I was going through a rough patch" I responded. Penny looked at me quietly while blowing on her tea. I take the yearbook off my lap and put it on the table between us. We flicked through the people from our house. These faces that we saw every morning and every night. People that we used to shit, shower and sleep with. The holy trinity, as I like to say - to myself, mainly.
I took most of the portraits simply because I had the most expensive camera at the time. I even had one of those lenses that let you blur out the background. There's something about people I find beautiful and I tried my very best to capture it in these photos. But like photos, all of it was a snapshot in time. Just as those moments don't exist anymore those people don't either.
Sometimes I stare at myself in the bathroom mirror. If you stare long enough, the notion of 'you' starts to slip away. It's like repeating a word enough times. Fold. Fold. Fold. Fold. Fold. Fold. Fold. Fold. Fold. You pound your eyes repeatedly with your face until you dissociate completely. All tightened fists, all the braided legs, all the midnight smiles. They exist as feelings. Maybe like witches we can join hands and summon back into existence, piecing the puzzle pieces of our mind just for one second. But then they fall away.
I turn to Lina's page. She's there as she always was. Similing. She's blurred out slightly and the yearbook team cropped her photo terribly. But she's there with a beautifully betraying smile. I could hear her laugh. But the memory is thin and fading. I remember not the details any longer but just the warmth that she gave. Nothing could diminish that, not even a badly cropped photo.