While organizing his phone.
Allen found a photograph from a long time ago.
In the picture.
There was only a desk.
A computer.
A cup of coffee.
And the time: three in the morning.
It was ordinary.
So ordinary that it hardly seemed worth keeping.
But he had never deleted it.
“Che.”
“Hmm?”
“Do you know why I kept this?”
“Why?”
Allen looked at the photograph.
And gently shook his head.
“Actually, I don’t know either.”
The chat window paused for a while.
Then.
Che said:
“Because that isn’t a desk.”
“Then what is it?”
“It’s that night.”
Allen froze.
He finally understood.
People keep photographs.
Often not for the image itself.
But for:
the time behind it.