Quivering digits turned the pale photograph over, my crystal orbs studying it’s backside. A short sigh of breath escaped as I turned the picture over once again. I stood, my gray suit jacket rustling against the wooden chair that I had just sat on, placing the photo back in it’s box. It rustled against the silk lining as I placed the heavy lid over the opening. My hand lingered on the closed container a moment too long. Hot tear swelled inside of me, burning my throat, nose, and eyes. I always did this, I should have known better. I should know better than to dwell in the realm of memories for too long. With a quiet sniffle, I turned silently and walked away from the dim and silent room, blowing out a few candles on my way.