The scrap of paper lay facedown on the pavement. I picked it up out of curiosity, or greed perhaps—maybe it’s valuable. An old man’s face stared back at me from an ancient photo, brown and curled at the edges. The face seemed familiar, like a former lover’s face, the lines of age not yet showing on my lover’s youthful profile. A woman walked toward me, searching. “Is this yours?” I asked. A tear rolled down her cheek. “I thought he was lost forever,” she whispered, but not to me. She shuffled away slowly, clutching the photo to her chest.
Gwenette Gaddis is a southern writer with influences from Tennessee, Indiana, Oregon, Florida, and Kentucky. She’s writing a novel and a collection of short stories.