cutout from Baltimore Magazine with one of the pictures they featured. My favorite picture. In it, Caleb is sitting at that little table in the corner with a flowery teacup in his hand, legs splattered with mud and dirt, face exhausted. But he’s looking at me with such tender affection I feel it like a kiss against the back of my neck. A knuckle under my chin. In the picture, I’m behind the counter and he’s at the table. He’s looking at me like I’ve hung the damn moon. I think I have forty-seven copies of that magazine.
