Hotel check-ins.

Flight confirmations.

Weekends I had been told were work.

I stood there over that box and felt the last two years reorganize themselves in front of me.

Because the cruelest thing about being lied to for a long time is not learning the lie; it is learning how many ordinary, trusting moments of your own life were built on top of it.

Every one of those photographs corresponded to a night I had lived through believing something else.