"She Found the Photograph Under the Seat of the Car" by Gabriel Brunelle
She found the photograph under the seat of the car. She thought she had lost it, didn't know where it had gone, yet she knew what it was as soon as her fingers touched the glossy Polaroid surface. She didn't need to see the picture to see it-- his lopsided smile, one eye tilted out of the sun, in shadow, a belt of freckles spanned in frozen rotation across his young-boy face. Frozen, that's what he was; frozen in an object from the past, in a present which would not let him grow.
When she pulled the photograph out, she kept it face down, sliding the black backing, facing out, into the back pocket of her jeans.