I had nowhere urgent to go, yet I kept moving as if the city might eventually offer an answer.

At home, my wedding photograph sat on the living room mantel.

Connor and I were laughing beneath an arch of white flowers.

I remembered the sensation of standing beside someone who would never knowingly embarrass me, and the certainty with which I had made that promise to myself.

I took the photograph down.

I didn’t break it or throw it away.

I placed it in a drawer because I no longer wanted it deciding what I should believe about the man standing in front of me today.