She took another blank sheet from the pile of blank papers. She picked up the previously discarded pen and placed the tip on the sheet to start with the obligatory “Ladies and Gentlemen”. But the eradication of that last paragraph had exhausted the last remaining ink.

‘Great’, she thought. ‘This is what I get from having packed my computer.’

She absently threw the pen towards the trash can, missing the target by at least two feet.  Jodi opened her desk drawer halfway to search for a new one, pushing the various post-its, pads, paperclips and rubber bands out of the way, but there wasn’t a pen in sight. For the hundredth time, she vowed to be more organized in the future with her home office.

Jodi then pulled the drawer all the way out in a last ditch effort to find something to write with. But instead of a pen or a pencil, she found only a familiar face staring back at her.

It was a picture of a small boy, around seven years old, with red-hair, freckles on his nose and cheeks, expressive green eyes and a toothy grin.

The speech was forgotten. Jodi reached into the drawer and pulled out the picture frame. The protective glass was shattered on one side, a physical scar of the day she had thrown it against the wall in a furious outburst.

Today, there was none of the rage that assaulted her the last time she had seen this picture. Three years later, the only thing she felt was an almost overwhelming sensation of loss.

Tentatively, her index finger traced the edges of the child’s face. She remembered the day they had taken this picture all to well. It had required a bit of negotiation on her part to get the kid to smile, but it was worth it. He had one of the most beautiful smiles she had ever laid eyes on.

How she missed him. How she missed them.

A tap on her shoulder shook Jodi out of her reverie. She didn’t have to turn around to know Tom had arrived. He walked around the desk and took a seat in front of her. By the time he sat, Jodi had already stored the picture at the back of the drawer.