Looking at photos tonight with my new roommate. There’s discussion of the things we have in common. I am just looking at all of this history, mostly blurry just like my experience of it is now, lots of you. You don’t look like his soon-to-be ex-wife, but it rings a bell. He says you look happy. Like you and me and we were happy once. It reminds him of what he fell in love with with his wife; something now that has become just a dream; she’s changed so much.
I try to tell him that I think it is different with me and you, that you really haven’t changed that much from what I fell for, and that what I fell for was really you. I feel foolish. As if I know?
He says you’re beautiful in those old photographs.
I say that I know.
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