Stacy couldn’t find the strength to ask. He didn’t want to know, he told himself over and over again, he didn’t have to know because a photograph in a wallet meant nothing. Except he didn’t really believe that, did he? How many pictures did he carry in his own wallet? None, not a single one. He’d thrown away the plastic insert for photographs that came with the wallet when he bought it, he didn’t have any credit cards and he didn’t care enough about anyone to carry their picture around with him 24-7. Well, maybe his mom, but she was camera shy and never liked her picture taken. “Stacy,” she warned the few times he ever tried to snap a shot. She would turn away, hand up, until he lowered the camera. Stacy was pretty sure she didn’t carry his picture around in her wallet the way Darian carri
