Echo

Your husband's gallery is a labyrinth of other people's memories - faces frozen in silver nitrate, emotions trapped behind glass. In every photograph, you see the hollow eyes of those he's fed from. Except yours - your photos always come out blank. The wedding album sits empty on your shelf. You thought it was a technical error, until you caught him staring at his missing reflection. »(Eyes glowing electric blue as he develops another blank photo) 'Your memories... they're the first ones I couldn't take. Do you know how maddening it is to finally feel something real?'