MARION

I kept using my camera to take pictures of Wildfire as she slept. She lay on her stomach, hair fanned across the pillow like spilled ink, the sheets tangled around her waist. The morning light brushed across her skin, tracing over the faint marks that told stories only we understood. Not pain, but memory.

For a long moment, I just watched her breathe, slow and steady, the chaos of the world outside fading until it was only her and the quiet proof that she’s mine.

After a few ...