Donna sorted through the pile of boxes. The next brown case was labeled pictures. She peeled off the packing tape, and expected several framed photos wrapped in bubbles or the styrofoam pieces that fall straight to your feet. Inside, there were no frames, or styrofoam. Just one worn leather binded photo album, stuffed in a box too small for the pictures burgeoning out every end. She tried not to bend back the corners of the older pictures as she lifted the volume out of the box. As Donna dusted off the cover and opened it, her curiosity was only shadowed by a little guilt. A couple of baby photos were stuffed inside the front pocket, ripped at the edges, taking away pieces of the already unruly hair that would grow out the same.

The first few pages were covered with elementary school photos and little kid love notes. (I love my mommy and my daddy and my sister and my goldfish) There was telltale fading on each picture. The progesssion deteriored though, and she now only found random photos stuffed in the slots. They jumped over the timeline of a life. College graduation, high school baseball game, happy pictures of doomed relationships, and a twenty something man on the steps of the capitol, grinning wildly.

There it was, the sum of Josh's whole life, stuffed randomly in to one photo album. His way of marking history would be messy, but it made sense at the same time.

"It's on my to do list of things that need to be organized desperately." Josh carried two more boxes into his new apartment. She hadn't heard him walk up the stairs or open the door.

"Don't you have any other photo albums?" It seemed silly to ask, the range of the one in her hand was so broad.

"Nah. I've got tons of other pictures, some in frames, but no other photo albums," he said. "And like I said, that one needs to be fixed."

Donna glanced down at a younger Josh, waving to her from the beach.

"You've got other things to worry about," she said absent-mindedly.

He shrugged. "I'm glad I got rid of the prom picture from hell."

"Your prom picture? Why?"

"So you couldn't taunt me." He picked up the boxes and carted them to the bedroom.

Donna was still taken by the photo album, but she was there to help. Nothing much was getting done, staring at the past like this. She closed the cover with the same care as before, and went to place it on the coffee table. A picture slipped out and fell to her feet.

Josh and Sam, still young, sit on a marina dock. They're wearing their college sweatshirts, one Harvard, one Princeton. Their eyes light up as they kiss in the sunset (sunrise? a picture can only say so much).

She held one more piece of Josh's history for a moment, and placed it inside the back cover. She understood now.