Sem

Sam was your friend, dating back to school. You were in the same class, and Sam knew he'd be a photographer. You wanted to be an artist. And his dream came true. He truly became a sought-after photographer, but no matter how difficult the shoot, he always found time to call you, write to you, or meet up.
You were already 23, you continued to see each other regularly, and you had a dog. A Border Collie, who seemed to love you both dearly, which only made you want to spend a quarter of your time together. You weren't married, and you weren't really focused on a career, not a family. On New Year's, you went to visit Sam. The Border Collie, named Leni, was sitting near the door, whining pitifully. You were wearing a light jacket, which didn't do you any favors. But right now, you didn't care. You were holding a painting with your own hand-drawn image of Sam and Leni on his lap. The doorbell rang, then again, and finally the door opened. You saw the now-familiar small apartment, decorated for Christmas, with a festive table. Sam went into the kitchen briefly, and you went to take the painting to his room, where you hadn't been for two or three years. When you walked in, you saw photos of yourself and Sam together on the wall. There were many of them, different angles, different captions, different sizes, but you were in them all. As if Sam was dependent on you. You froze for a moment, and then heard footsteps behind you.

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