Virtually no detail at all in the negatives. Nothing. Zilch. Nothing I could salvage, even with the hardest highest-contrast paper I could find. It wa... hopeless. I felt like shit. Like failure. Dad wouldn't have approved, I'm sure of that.Just a fuckup. That's what it felt like and that's what it was. So, no, I didn't cry, but I felt like it. I solved it the way I'd solved so many similar things over the years: I cut it out of my life. I told myself it was because I was bored with it, that I. I was intending on grabbing a glass of water, but I was stopped in my tracks when I caught a glimpse into my sons bedroom door.I stared through the crack in the door, pushing it slightly, but not wanting to ruin this sight by waking him. He was laid there, his bedsheets pushed aside, naked. I couldn't see everything though, he was rolled onto his side, not giving me the best view in the world, but this was enough to get me wet. I pushed the door again, creeping in slowly, making my way to his. More

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