  Your face has all but faded from my mind. The only reason I have some conception of what it looks like is because of the photograph hanging on my wall. Do you remember my face? Is there still a photograph of me hanging on your wall? Did you ever even have a photograph of me?
I don't quite know. Wait, yes, you did. I remember which one it was. Someone once told you it looked as though you were crying in it. You weren't, or course. The camera just took you by surprise. Even if you did have that photo somewhere with you, it would be irrelevant. I have changed a great deal since those days. You probably have too. You did mean everything to me at one time, but now, you are nothing but part of a past I'd rather not discuss. I don't know where you are living now, or what you are doing. The importance of the late night phone calls seems to have diminished now, reduced to a slight attachment to the photo on my wall. urlLink postCount('nov232002'); 
