Behind the Venue, My Husband Handed Me a Scrapbook Pulled From the Dumpster

phone out. I photographed everything, methodically, moving around the dumpster to capture different angles. The stained scarf, the cracked jewelry box, the memory book half-submerged in refuse. I zoomed in on the wrapping paper with Emma’s hand-drawn designs. I made sure there could be no ambiguity about what I was seeing and where it was.

As I was continue reading …