I slipped your picture out of my left pocket, where I keep so many things. But today, only your picture, folded, soft. So I stared at it like I normally would, ran my thumb over your face, kissed your feet. Then. I looked again and saw how your face was turned, sadness filled me, shock and denial. Because I knew then what was happening. Your hands usually in their prayer position, now closed, the clouded halo you don, now only gray smoke, the cloak usually teal and gold, now just dim-lit cloth. That's when I knew. My heart would break later. The heart no one can save.