She thought of Liam. Of the pier in Dublin. Of the rain that had misted his face. Would he want to be her lock or her key?
The first was the alpine lake. She swiped left. A field of sunflowers. Swipe. A nebula from the James Webb telescope. Swipe. A kitten in a teacup. change lock screen image
She locked the phone. The screen went dark. Then, she pressed the power button. She thought of Liam
Every morning, she swiped awake a photo of her late husband, Liam. It was his favorite: him on a rainy Dublin pier, grinning, collar turned up against the mist. For two years, that image had been the first thing she saw. It was a ritual, a lock, a promise not to forget. Would he want to be her lock or her key
Irritation turned to a hollow ache. She tapped "Custom" and dove into her gallery. The photos scrolled by: Liam's hospital bracelet. An empty chair by a window. A receipt from the funeral home. All the artifacts of grief she couldn't delete.
A new photo she didn't remember taking. It was from last week, at a bookstore. A friend had snapped it without her noticing. Elara was mid-laugh, face scrunched, holding a silly poetry book. She looked alive. Not the hollowed-out widow, but someone with a crease of joy beside her eye.
Change Lock Screen Image?