Marcus felt a pang of unease when she removed the card from the fridge. It was ridiculous, given that the photo hadn't even been fully visible; partially obscured by a different nephew's graduation picture. He grunted noncommittally when she mentioned his keeping the family, trying to come across as though he just didn't throw away shit. There was no apparent organization to the pictures. Nothing to indicate that they were treasured in any way.
But still, Marcus was relieved when she put it back where it went. He'd expected her to ask to keep it. A part of him knew he should offer it to her, since she didn't even have a copy of it, herself... but he kept quiet. He couldn't explain why the pictures were important. Why he couldn't throw them away. Not just the holiday photo cards on the fridge, but also the portraits in the bedroom from his half-assed wedding of Sophia in her dress. The box of snapshots in the closet of lovers past, hoarded like gold and hidden like skeletons. He didn't even really look at them anymore, but he kept them. He wouldn't even consider culling. Letting people pass in and out of his life was easier that way, for some reason. As if the memento could somehow lessen the separation. The pictures acted as proof of connection, a substitute for memory and effort. So long as he kept the photographs, Marcus could just throw up his hands and let go of everything -- everyone -- else.
But he wasn't about to get into all of that with Kessie. Not when he couldn't really explain the logic of it to himself. So the grunt sufficed, combined with a shrug, and Marcus moved past her to open the fridge to see what there was to offer. He'd made pasta the night before, and there was about enough left for two people. Marcus took out the leftovers, avoiding the temptation of the bottles on the middle shelf. As good as a beer sounded right then, if he drank it would just encourage Kessie to do so as well. He could abstain before work.
"We're all fucking crazy, mija," he said, which wasn't really a bid of confidence in and of itself, but it was better than a direct argument. "You, me, the rest of this fucking planet. You say something happened, then something happened. I seen some weird shit," he added, thinking about men popping out of ancient coins, and mushroom women bent at impossible angles into plastic bins. "So I'm not gonna be the one to say it didn't. You don't look much like a fucking lizard right now, though. Hungry?"