Photos

She never takes pictures. In fact, she doesn't even own a camera. She used to, once, but then it got lost on a bus or a plane or during the move. Whenever it comes up in conversation -- and it rarely does -- she always promises: "Next time somebody asks to see my photo album, I'll go out and buy a new camera." In other words, she believes that pictures are an imposition. At one point, she did own a single album containing mostly images of herself as a child. There was a picture or two of her parents and their dog who died when she was twelve; there were a couple of pictures of her ex-boyfriends -- the good break-ups; and a few of her married friends and their children -- those came in the mail with the annual Christmas greetings. Perhaps, the album got lost too or she forgot its location, because the photos from the last few Christmases had been piling up on top of her TV set. One day, a fire broke out in the apartment next door and all of her things got destroyed by smoke and water. She moved to a different place; her homeowners' insurance payed for the new furniture and clothes. The photo album? Who knows what happened to it. Maybe the fire destroyed it, maybe it got lost earlier, when she had first moved into that traitorous apartment.