I don’t know how long they had been drifting apart.  It could have started last week or last year or last time they really talked.  But it had happened at some point and all that really matters is that it would have happened no matter what they did.  I think the first time I met them it was clear as day–two people talking passed each other; two people looking past each other into the soul of a person that just wasn’t there.  

I heard from a mutual friend that he was staying at work late so he could avoid going home and having dinner with her.  My wife heard that she was meeting some guy at the wine bar after work while he was working late.  It seemed to me it was only a matter of time before it all just crumbled.  The strange part was that I couldn’t imagine either of them actually giving a shit that it was over.  Sure there would be yelling and tears and shitty hurtful things said, but in my mind, while all the faux-emotional shrapnel was miming the destruction of everything they pretended to hold dear, they would pass right through the other like the ghosts they were–massless, half-empty/half-depleated husks of lovers.  

So when I heard they were taking a trip together, you know, ‘taking some time to patch things up” I couldn’t help but wonder.  I pictured them on the airplane, both on their phones, constantly checking their Instagram so they can avoid talking to each other.  Or in the hotel room, letting out a deep sigh while she fakes a headache to avoid sex and he checks her phone for texts while she’s in the bathroom.  I imagined them at the theme park, riding the rides secretly wishing they could just get off.  Get off of the rides.  Get off of each other.  Get off. 

Estranged shot on my Leica M7 with a Summicron 35 on Kodak Tri-X 400 and pushed to 800 at the Icon.  

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