📸*
She turned the corner, her eyes filled with laughter.
The sunlight dappled her blonde locks as she run behind her companion.
It was perfect.
My camera clicked as I took the shot, the photo sliding from the compartment.
It was black.
Then slowly, the colors faded in.
My unkept locks fell over my eyes as I sighed in content, wondering when that would happen to me.
When the black void would finally fade to color.
She turned around again in my direction, but I was long gone. I hid in the alley of an abandoned building, taking out my photo album.
The picture had completely settled by then, showing me the image.
My cracked lips stretched up in a small smile as I inspected my work.
She had blue eyes that matched the sky, and her hair could rival the sun in shine.
Her pale porcelain skin was flushed pink, her cheeks a rosy tone. She was smiling in the picture, her pearly white teeth showing through the gaps of her red lips that had pulled up into a smile.
It was perfection.
Far from me.
YOU ARE READING
The Photo Album
Non-FictionThis is a story about an obsession, which took over the mind of the weak. (This is a book that was literally inspired by a dream I had, and will not have a regular update period)
