The old woman sighed, gazing at the picture frame. She recalled the moment she had bought it, the way her eyes had shone with delight as they fell across the wood-carved frame. She was going to put her wedding photo in it, the wedding that had yet to come.

"Can't you imagine us both," she had said to her friend. "Standing within this wooden frame, we're too trite for gold don't you think?"

So she had bought the frame and put it aside to be filled.

Running her hands across the grooves, she took back to the day she had shown her fiancée.

He had smiled, and thrown his arms around her. "It's a beautiful frame, perfect for us."

"I knew you'd like it."

He had picked it up, holding it high to her head. "You know what, it matches your eyes."

It had matched her eyes then. Now her eyes had faded, a dull brown instead of the bright one that continued to shine around the frame.

Slowly the woman's hand trailed across the frame to the empty glass, flat wood all that there was to stare at her.

"Hi hun," her husband came over and gave her shoulder a squeeze. "Why don't you put something in that frame, you've had it as long as I've known you."

She smiled. "I can't find the perfect picture."

But the picture that she was searching for was never going to be taken, and the frame would always remain empty in the woman's hands.