One day I came across a photograph, I think it was, though it was
jammed into one side of a stereopticon. I was working inside a closet
where, strangely, I had discovered some fine walnut panelling.
I never showed the photograph, the picture, to anyone, not even Adonie.
Especially not to Adonie.
It caught my attention because I recognized Cella. I had never seen
a picture of her so young with her hair, which must have been a light and
nearly golden brown, waving about her smiling face.
She was with another and that's what stunned me.
I thought it was Adonie. I thought it was Adonie looking younger than
she was now. But it must have been Cesca. There was no one else it could
have been.