Henry is there, behind her, folding her fingers over his, lifting the viewfinder to her eye. Letting her guide the pressure of his hands the way she did the paint on the glass wall. And her heart quickens as she lines up a shot of the photos littering the floor, her own bare feet at the bottom of the frame. She holds her breath, and hopes.
A click. A flash.
This time, the picture comes out.
·
41 views
Yorum yapabilmeniz için giriş yapmanız gerekmektedir.