The Pomegranate Box

The wooden box smelled of dried pomegranate and old perfume. Inside were photos with one face erased from each frame.

The missing face was not scratched out. It had been carefully removed, as if someone wanted the family to remember the room but forget the person standing in it.

She held the oldest photo up to the light.

The woman on the left had the same eyes as her.

That was impossible.

Because the photo was dated twenty-three years before she was born.