The Missing Picture

It was gone. It should be right there. In my mind's I I could see it.
I stared at the empty spot. I remember the picture. His arm draped awkwardly across my shoulder although his smile and mine did not show any hint of awkwardness.
A snap shot of me looking a bit more grown up than I had ever outside of theater make up.
It was the only picture I cold remember of the two of us. In my mind we had been quite the item. Although that awkward arm could tell a million people of the unease of the physical affection between us.
We were pretty much good kids. I have always thought he was the better kids. He was the one that had the better grades, the stronger adherence to principal.

The absence of the picture makes me wonder. Did I get rid of it in a fit of anger or in symbology of a new and greater love?

Now when I have found him, in a manner of speaking, I want that picture to be there. Even the rough parts we good memories. I was such a short time in reflection but so full.

Why of all the boys there has been am I so attached to this one. In the end it was full of promise that never was fulfilled. It was full of fettered passion and longing. It was a first love. It was pure. I have never had another relationship so pure.

The only regret I have is the current absence of the picture. Maybe I’ll find it again.