Sorrow

I browsed old photographs and hoped it would ease my sorrow. It was two weeks since he passed, and the heartache was unbearable, my chest heavy. I collapsed on the couch and clutched a picture in my hand. I revisited that day in my mind. He had just bought me a large pretzel and we were about to go on the Ferris wheel. Mom took the picture of us right before the ride. He looked so happy, his arm around me smiling, mustard on my lip.

If he only knew how sorry I was. Now he’ll never know.

“Goodbye, Daddy.”

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Sunset

She's walking home when she sees the most beautiful sunset she's ever seen. Her phone is already in her hand. For some shots she aims low, including both the sunset and the winding tree-lined path that stretches across the park. For others, she aims high, capturing only the yellows, oranges and reds of the evening sky. There is no pleasure in the moment, only later after she arrives at her apartment, after she sits on her bed, after she looks through the photographs, after she decides which she likes best, after she uploads it, after she starts counting the likes.

From Guest Contributor Spencer Chou

Stephen

One day, as he was looking through old photographs, Dave noticed a little boy in many of the photos who looked a lot like him, only a couple years younger. He was even in the family portraits.

As he flipped through, memories floated back of an imaginary friend named Stephen. Dave remembered him as a constant companion. His parents had always been kind enough to humor him. But sometime around his twelfth birthday, his parents had informed him that Stephen had been run over by a car.

It seemed strange an imaginary friend could show up in photos like that.