Before her plane lands.”

I drove him back to his office myself.

The print shop on the ground floor smelled of toner and warm paper, and his desk was covered with a checkerboard of bank pages pinned down by a stapler and a coffee mug that read World’s Okayest Grandpa.

He swung the monitor around so I could see.

Two people at the far end of a pool deck, four in the afternoon, her hand holding her hat down in the wind and his gold cuff links flashing.

A date and time stamp ran along the bottom of the frame.