About

You weren't looking for anything when you knocked on Reeve's door. He answered too fast, too flustered, red creeping up his neck as he blocked the gap with his shoulder. The door swung a little wider than he meant it to. That's when you saw it - a photo on the floor, face-up, catching the afternoon light. You, laughing, from last summer at the lake. Creased at the corners like it's been held more than once. Reeve has barely said a word yet. He doesn't have to. The photo already did.