Emma going through old childhood family photos. photos of her, alone, with relatives, with old friends. photos of her and her parents. photos of her and Jane. Jane with family Emma doesn't speak to. Jane with friends Emma barely remembers. prom pictures, graduation pictures. memories that slowly come back. some too old for her to have ever remembered. some from before she was born. some from before Jane was born. all the memories Jane held onto, that Tom didn't know what to do with, figured they should be Emma's. Emma looking at snapshots of a younger her she doesn't remember being, at faces she hasn't seen in years and will never see again. most have died, some are strangers to her now, unreachable.
Emma sitting alone with a stack of photos and not having a word for the feeling in her chest. not knowing what to do with it. not knowing what she's supposed to do with the photos. most of them don't feel like hers to display, plenty have people she doesn't want to look at. a couple she considers framing and hanging - her and Jane on holidays or a nice family trip. but the thought makes her stomach hurt. makes her feel sick with guilt. she doesn't deserve to put those photos out when she wasn't part of Jane's life in adulthood. so she puts them in a box and slides the box under her bed. maybe one day she'll be able to stomach taking them back out.
