i am not a hoarder. i don’t accumulate. then this. a picture of an ex, comfortable in between heavily dogeared pages of a book hardly read now, printed in a cheap photo paper from a drugstore kiosk. the snapshot clings on to some of its sheen, like molted snakeskin unsunned in a dark attic. he is sitting on a decrepit lawn chair. the sun is up and he casts no shadow.