It is so sunny, and you squint. I am light today. That little boy you remember is standing there beside you again and reaches to hold your hand. His hand is warm inside your palm. Who is this boy anyway? You’d forgotten about her suddenly, but now remember her too. As you walk over to the photo album, you realize it will be empty. So you lead the boy to the rocking chair, ask him if he’s cold, he nods, you reach for the sweater and drape it over his legs, and hand him the photo album. Step away and look back out the window. Broken glass catches her for an instant. You look back at the boy who slowly turns the pages of the album, smiling, squinting, rocking. The sweater has fallen on the floor.