FATALISTIC LOVE ✓

VII

I met you at work.

it turns out you were the man I was going to be taking photos of. you were one of the actors of the brand new TV show- they needed shots of every character.

and I got lucky.

at least I thought I was.

you were the last person I had to shoot photos of that day. everyone was tired. you stood in front of me, slumped and I could tell you were trying to irritate me- brashness in your eyes.

but when it was time to actually take photos, you posed wonderfully. I was trying my best not to get distracted by your charming looks. I held the camera securely in my hands, trying to angle the frames.

but of course, what a camera holds doesn't do justice to the astonishing real life. just the way a sunset looks different with your eyes, compared to a mobile screen.

I admired the way you posed for the camera. it's like you were born to be a star. there was nothing wrong with the poses you had made, the facial expressions. even the director seemed happy with how things were going since your character was being reflected in the moves, the expressions- that's what the intention was. I was pleased with the photos I had taken of you.

I tried my best to capture the way your necklace looked against your sharp collarbone, your leather jacket with the belt loose, your smooth pale skin along with your arm veins, your ebony bangs, your long neck and your vast shoulders.

as we finished, I checked the pictures on my camera- contended with how well work was going. having a job opportunity like that was very relieving as I wasn't able to find a job for so long at the time.

but then you came over, snatching the camera off me.

"what the hell are these?"