Going through the albums, I gathered up all of the photographs. There was quite a collection, years of memories made together. I'd been working on this all day, cutting out his face with surgical precision and obliterating them from my life, wavering between grief and rage. After what he had done to me, I needed to make sure that I would never see his face again, erasing him from my history.
I placed the pieces in a tin can and took them out to the backyard, along with the letters he had written, allegedly professing his love for me, and poured some lighter fluid over them. It was a dark night, perfect for a little bonfire. They ignited in a burst of flames, remnants twirling up toward the night sky.
It was truly cathartic.
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