Photographic MemoryChapter 2
The tent glowed early in the morning, when the sun hit the thin orange nylon. The inside quickly became hot, and probably more than a little odorous. That wasn't what woke me up though. It was her breathing. Curled in behind me in the sleeping bag, her breath was somehow both cool and warm on the back of my neck, and even though I couldn't see her, I could feel Stephanie's soft skin against mine, and wondered again how it had happened. The photographer in me recalled the look of her...