by Dale Howard

Created on: October 09, 2009

The picture was old and worn. A stain of something covered the upper right corner, and the general fading of the sepia image rendered most of its occupants blurred like the world through tears. And yet, one woman in the picture shown through the haze in crystal clarity as if the energy radiating from her electric eyes alone brought her entire body into lucidity while overpowering all else in the photograph.

"Mom, who is that?" Catherine asked. She held the photo in her fingers, first blowing softly on it, then wiping gently across its surface to clear the dust, the tip of her finger hesitating on the line of the woman's cheekbone for just a moment.

"Who is who?" Kate asked, slowly standing up straight, one hand on her back as she stood over the box she was packing.

"This woman?" Catherine replied, turning the photo towards her mother.

Kate sighed and tucked an errant strand of graying hair to the side and used the same hand to take a corner of the photo. Catherine gave it up reluctantly, letting her mother bring it closer to her squinting eyes. She glanced at it for only a second before giving it back

"I don't know sweetie," her mother said, handing it back. She immediately hunched back over her box and started dropping things in.

Catherine rubbed the corner of the photo as she inspected it. The woman in the photo was beautiful. Her dark hair was gathered elegantly on her head, showing off her slender neck and bare shoulders. A dark dress wrapped around her, flaunting her curves, and gloves snaked up her elbows. One arm was raised over her head, brandishing her flute of champagne like a trophy. But though her figure drew attention, it was her eyes that pulled Catherine in the most. Her eyes were bright and alive, silhouetted by black makeup and shining through an extravagant mask shaped like an exquisite butterfly.

Catherine tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear in a good imitation of her mother and flipped the photograph over.

"Halloween 1951," she whispered reading the inscription written in tightly lettered script.

"Hmm?" her mother asked, not looking up.

"Hey is this Grandpa's handwriting?" Catherine asked, offering the photograph once more. Her mother didn't look at it, but continued to pile things into her box.

"Honey, I know you're interested in this stuff, but this is the last room on the last day we can do this. You wanna hurry the process along a little, huh?"

Catherine lowered her arm and looked down at the picture, then at the box it was

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