The Album Dream

A photo album was left in my bag. It was an album with pictures of her. Her parents had compiled it to document her childhood, with pictures of her when she was two, when she was four, then so on into her teenage years up to the point when she left her home and her country. It had an ornate red and white patterned cover. The pictures were arranged so that as you flipped the album through, you would go earlier and earlier in time. It was a mistake, I thought. How could it have ended up here? I should return it to her. I put it on my table. And then that was where it ended.