February 14th, 2016

         "Giving Ophelia a journal must have rubbed off on her, because she made me something for Valentine's day. What used to be a holiday for candy and chocolate and roses and teddy bears, has become something more. When she handed it to me - wrapped in newspaper because both of us know buying wrapping paper is a waste of money - I had no idea how to react. I hadn't gotten her anything because I knew she wouldn't want me to, but perhaps that is one more thing that works well between us; we can give without expecting anything in return. When I unwrapped it, I saw that it was a small journal-style book, only the pages were already filled. What Ophelia had made was a documentation of my life. From images of when I was a soldier, to the numerous articles of when Steve was found in the ice, articles of what Steve was doing now.

        But at the end was a photo of us; I recall when she took it a few weeks ago in the snow. The image is dull, the camera itself hardly works, but she's absolutely gorgeous. She looks... frozen in time in that picture. I don't know when I'll be able to sit myself down and read everything that is in the book she gave me, there will come a time where I have to know, but right now I can't think about Steve and his life, the life I can't put myself back into and maybe never will. That picture, however, it's the only image of us together, the only proof of our relationship to the world. That means something."