When the splint finally came off, Daniel stood in front of the mirror for almost a minute. He turned his face from side to side and smiled.
For once, he didn’t make a joke about himself.
I hugged him and said, “See? You were handsome before.”
He laughed.
“I know.”
For a while, things seemed better. Daniel started taking pictures without deleting them. He bought new clothes and even started fixing his hair before we went out.
Then something changed.
He became interested in my old photo albums.
Most of the pictures were from college—birthdays, road trips, graduations, and pictures of my older brother, Adam.
Adam had died eight months before I met Daniel. He was only thirty-two when a sudden aneurysm took his life.
I had spent years telling Daniel stories about him. Adam had been confident, funny, and the kind of person who could walk into a room and make friends immediately.
