On the lowest shelve of a closed mahogany bookcase; under a pile of old papers and forgotten books laid the dreaded wedding album.
She opens it wearily and falls into a tangled maze of suffocating memories, the narrow strange walls of the painful past, the expired happiness, the false bliss
photos from another life time
someone else's husband
someone else's family
the smile she wore -seven years ago - looks like someone else's smile
It must have been a dream.
She carefully puts it back where it belongs; under, beneath, hidden, unseen, barely existing in the back of all that is reality and present
walks quietly to where her child sleeps, her child, her proof that it all really happened,
she is growing up so quickly and is beginning to look like someone else's child.
