I Did Not Have a Say in the Guest List

“I used to think that I could never lose anyone if I photographed them enough. In fact, my pictures show me how much I’ve lost.” 


I was having a house party, at the Morgan Ranch house. It was not mine at first, but an enormous movie theater. There were three screens, so each of the hundreds of attendees could see equally as well.
I ran into an acquaintance from high school (many of the people there were). I had been doing the best that I could to ignore your presence, until she began to talk about you.
She said she had just run into you in an isle behind her (remembering that we were friends), and that you two had caught up. I secretly wondering about the conversation, but made no such hints.
She said it was strange you only brought me up once.
Without me having to ask (I was not going to), she told me that she inquired of you about the many pictures I took of you, right off the bat.
You had reminisced, "I used to look at those all the time."
I was scorn at your use of the past tense, and repulsed by your narcism.