Like Pharaoh, she will rewrite history. Two years of it, anyway. She collects the evidence: her laptop, the big heavy album, his letters. She prepares her tools: her giraffe lighter, a pint of Dewars, a bucket of ice. She deletes the jpegs quickly, ruthlessly, then flips open the album to find a photo of them together at Tracy’s wedding. As it catches flame, its edge curls towards her, beseeching Mercy! Mercy! Both torsos darken to spectral shadows. She taps the image and it crumbles into dust.
She swigs whiskey vengefully.
Soon, to forget, she will drink straight from the bottle.
Cinemagraph by Jamie Beck.
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