Staring at that picture and seeing just how far she has really come in this life…she is amazing and I don’t know how I have ever doubted her. How I have ever called her immature. Laying it down with the rest, pieces of her past that no one but her and those apart of it know about. Does she sit here staring at them still? Does she care that they’re here, just waiting to be discovered. I love these eyes, they’re so… honest. I want her here with me more than anything right now. Her hand shaking in mine, the sound of her heart pounding in my ears…I just want to be with her.

Looking back in the box I see nothing but a thick piece of paper lining the bottom, torn in the top right corner and I see something beneath it. It cuts my skin as I pull it up, the sting making me flinch making me forget what could be there. I see her, with her fingers paused on her lips her tongue licking away the cream cheese on her finger. Looking down I see an old magazine, dated a couple years ago. My name in thin yellow hand written letters, a small pile of maybe six covering the bottom along with a cd, pictures and a note.

The first one was taken right after we started dating, we were at the planet some band was playing I can remember that she never left my side that night. We hid at a table in the back, I sat on her lap and everything faded away. I can remember her hand on my leg, sliding higher with each stroke her fingers brushing against my dress. Her tongue on my neck, her hair in my hands, my pulse racing and the flash of Alice’s camera. We stopped but I couldn’t turn from her gaze, she always said that this was her favourite picture of us. The second one was a Polaroid of me lying in bed, the white sheet wrapped around me my hair in my face and I’m asleep. I never knew she took this, god she kept this all. Pictures of us, magazines that had a small article on me, a cd that I worked on and a bottle of perfume. The tears making them blur, and my heart is beating faster and faster with each passing second. I see her smile, and I finally realize just how much she loves me…I can hear the sudden uproar of laughter coming from downstairs. Looking around the room at the small pile of clothes on the floor, at the tuxedo jacket that she wore…at the pictures of her when she was younger. At the folded piece of paper that was still in the box, my hand stained with tears, trembling from the thought of her putting each one of these in here, I pick it up.