The morning after I discovered the album on Deanna’s phone, I couldn’t stop watching her.
She moved through the usual morning rush, getting the kids fed and ready while cleaning up behind them.
Then, right before leaving for work, she stood in the doorway and took a picture of the kitchen.
Click.
« Have a good day, » she said, kissing my cheek.
I watched her leave and felt strangely accused.
Deanna had already told me the pictures weren’t about me.
« It’s for my own peace of mind, » she’d said.
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