We took dozens of pictures and all of them are bad in some way; I am not sure there is one where we all have our eyes open and look non-threatening. Instead, we are laughing, and doing ridiculous things with our legs, and looking away. I chose one where we’re sat on the floor and the angle is a bit weird; the black-and-white makes it vaguely more palatable. I send it off, caption it family photo with a heart.
Admittedly, the photo is kind of terrible, no matter how you look at it. There’s only so much you can do in half-empty houses with terrible lighting and tipsy on cheap wine. You’ll slap a filter or three onto it and call it good enough, but there aren’t enough edits to make up for the fact that you all thought that sitting on the floor in the middle of the kitchen sounded like a good idea. Yeah, that’ll make it less awkward, right?
Did you make a truckload of friends? he asks, and I want to laugh because I don’t do truckloads, ever. I wouldn’t say that, I text him back, but I reckon I did alright.