“Thanks again for flying all the way out here to do our photos,” Darren says, clapping me on the back. “My wife wanted the best, and I just so happen to know an award-winning photographer.”

I smile and nod as Darren blows more smoke up my ass, though I get the feeling his compliment is somehow more about impressing his friends than giving me credit for my work. “It was a good excuse to come back to the States. I’m glad I took you up on the offer.” I don’t tell him how glad I am, or why. Zarina. My new reason for existing. My muse. My heart. Minha borboleta....