There are flashes in my mind. Cameras shuttering and a booming laugh, a finger tapping the freckles on my nose, and my friend smiling at me as if I’m his whole entire world. A room encased in glass, snow falling gently outside the panes and candles all around as my husband asks me to guide him in a dance. A flickering oil lamp and heat-slick skin moving together, pleasure rising sharp and sweet, the roofless hideaway failing to keep out the cold but warm words pressed to my skin speaking of love and a forever I desperately wish to see. There’s a time so long ago much of its history is lost,
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