Picture.

I see your brown eyes. I see the old blue slippers on your feet. The torn jeans, the white shirt. Your favourite. Folded sleeves end at the elbows, the watch on your wrist. Your hair is ruffled, ah, the wind. The leaves behind you are a dull shade of green. Your backpack lies by your feet. A faded black with a broken zip. The word 'Radiohead', written by me. I can see you're holding a book. My book. To Kill A Mockingbird. You're on your way to meet me, in your car. You take a picture of yourself to show me. Seven feet away from the car, the camera on the top of the windshield. Self-click. Perfect you look.

I've painted you. Picture of a picture. The last picture I have of you.