The photograph was lying on the sidewalk about five yards away. I was trying to untangle her hair from the man's coat. Her anger and his embarrassment grew together growing more tangled. In the end we went to a store to borrow a pair of scissors and cut her free. The man left with his red face and a knot of her auburn hair tangled around his buttons. She returned to me with the reek of the man's cologne and a lock missing from her hair. Her eyes rimmed with tears of anger; her voice tight. "That idiot!"

When we returned to the sidewalk the photograph was gone.