The picture frame had been turned against the wall for so long, she’d practically forgot about it.
“What’s this? he asked, the third time he’d come over.
She walked out the kitchen, wiping her hands on a cloth ready to ask what he meant, when she saw what he held.
“Oh that,” she said, trying to come up with something to say.
“You look, so happy,” he said.
She crossed the room, and took the picture from him.
“I was. For a short while anyway,” she said, shoving the picture, face down, in the desk’s drawer. “I hope you’re hungry.”