Recently Deleted

I deleted every photo of us. Then my phone told me I had twenty-nine days to change my mind.

I did it dramatically. In the bath, candle lit, sad playlist, deleting four hundred and eighty-two pictures like I was cleansing my soul. Selfies, screenshots, that blurry photo of us in a Tesco car park at midnight.

His name was Josh. Two years. And the way he left was so quiet that I'm still not sure when it ended.

I felt strong afterwards. Clean. Like I'd finally taken the trash out.

Then I opened my Photos app a week later and saw it. A tiny folder at the bottom. Recently Deleted. "482 items. Photos are kept for 30 days."

Thirty days. The phone gave me a trial period for my own heartbreak.

I told myself I wouldn't look. I looked. Just one. The Tesco car park. Then another. Then the whole night, 2 AM, tapping through our faces getting younger.

There's a countdown on every photo. "23 days." "22 days." Each one slowly dying.

I realised I wasn't recovering. I was just waiting for the app to do it for me.

Because deleting something is brave. But keeping it for thirty days, just in case?

That's hope wearing a disguise.

Tonight, it says "1 day."

My thumb is hovering over "Recover All."

And I honestly don't know which button is the one that hurts.