My wife, Heather, loves to take pictures with her phone.

In fact, she does it constantly, which is why I wasn’t surprised when the device ran out of memory.

Rather than just deleting the memory-hogging shots, she downloaded the lot of them and spent a week’s worth of mornings going through them at a leisurely pace on her laptop.

On one of those mornings I passed by, bleary eyed, on my way to the coffee pot, but what I saw on her screen jolted me awake. It was a selfie of her in the arms of a good-looking guy, clearly from before we met because she had really long hair. (She’s had a short pixie cut since I’ve known her.) She had a dreamy look on her face, and I guessed from her smile she was reliving some wonderful memories.

“Who’s that?” I asked.