The sky in this picture is the color of a bruise that won't heal, a deep blue that feels like it’s holding its breath. She stands on the edge of the dark sand, her white dress glowing like the only light left in a world that has decided to turn off. I remember this night clearly because it was the first time she didn't look back at me when I called her name. She was already somewhere else, her mind drifting out with the tide while I was still standing on the shore, trying to figure out how to keep us from sinking. Missing her feels like watching this old tape over and over, waiting for the part where she smiles, but it never comes. She is just a silhouette against the waves now, a quiet ghost caught in the grain of a memory that I can't let go of, no matter how cold the water gets. The ocean keeps moving, indifferent and loud, but everything in my life feels frozen in this one moment. I spend my nights tracing the lines of her shoulders in the dark, hoping that if I stare at this photo long enough, the static will clear and she’ll finally walk back into my arms.