You and Lou didn’t keep much stuff from when you first met besides pictures.

Pictures that you kept in a dusty album in the tv cabinet that hasn’t been touched since you both moved in with your little boy.

You had adopted him a couple years ago when he was only three years old and you both loved him like he was blood.

“Mama?” He calls from the living room, prompting you to walk in and make sure he was okay.

He was eight but still got into trouble often, just like his parents.

“What’s up, buddy?” You ask, bending down to be on his level and see what he was looking at.

The photo album.

“Who are they?” He questions, his little finger pointing to a picture of you and Lou in front of Lou’s old truck.

A laugh erupts from your lips and you pat his hair.

“That’s me and your mom,” you say softly. “When we were younger.”

As if she was eavesdropping, Lou walks into the living room and bends over you.

“Oh damn, I forgot how hot you were babe,” she smirks, running her hands down your arms.

You both still remember that day like it was yesterday.

The smell of fresh gasoline…the smoke from Lou’s joint…the wind blowing through your hair as you posed for the picture.

“Why’re you being so serious about this? It’s just a picture,” Lou teased, passing you her joint as she hops off the bed of the truck.

You were parked in the middle of a random field away from town, enjoying the smoke and fresh air before having to go back.