Mittens is over my shoulder, wearing a sweater Gran crocheted for him and gnawing on my milkshake straw. Lennon is smiling at the camera, and I’m smiling at Lennon. Jesus, smiling isn’t the right word, is it? It’s not enough. I’m looking at her like . . . I’m looking at her like she’s the sunset, and I’m seeing it in color for the very first time. That’s how I’m looking at her.
