Miles
It's still early, Sunday morning; I sip my last drop of coffee. I reach out and pick up the camera without a word, circling around her as she sits, barely moving, lost inside the screen. I follow curves, shapes that border abstraction, the nape of her neck, her lips pouting effortlessly. She's miles away; four inches from my hands, six inches from my mouth.
She's unfathomable.
Ten thousand memories deep.
