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They were cheap. Not even a dollar each. Gaudy and ugly and brightly colored. Just the usual tacky post card picked up at some tourist trap wherever they stopped. Beach towns, hiking resorts, amusement parks they wheedled Derek into buying tickets for. What was the point of a summer road trip without souvenirs, right? Or rubbing it in your friends’ faces you were somewhere pretty and they weren’t.
Still, Erica spent an ungodly amount of time picking each out. Wrote a little message on the back. Left a lipstick kiss in the corner. Dropped it in the mail and resolutely didn’t let herself wonder how Lydia felt getting them, if they were going in the trash or in her bedside table drawer.
She never brought it up when they talked, so Erica figured it was probably the latter, but she still sent them anyway, telling herself if nothing else it would keep Lydia from forgetting her while they were apart. Three months cross country was kind of a long time.
But maybe she wasn’t as subtle about it as she thought.
A single photo, sent out of the blue.
All her postcards, framed around Lydia’s mirror, shaped like a heart.