take a photo, even if it won't last (2/2)
Shot.
5.58 p.m.
It’s sunset over the New York skyline and she lifts her pretty little face to watch it through the glass, all sharp angles and porcelain doll features. A television set babbles on low volume in its lonely corner, emitting the familiar 6 o’clock news theme music. You barely notice, setting your eye to the camera lens and snapping shot after shot of her against the fiery background, both your face and hers bathed in the glow of metal and concrete set aflame.
6.07 p.m.
The newscaster in his tiny little metal box shuffles his papers and clears his throat as the words SPORTS UPDATE flashes behind him in stylish script. “Today’s showdown between the leading man of what has come to be known as the “Japanese Wave”, Kunimitsu Tezuka and popular British player-” You barely flinch at his name but the next shot you take doesn’t come out quite as perfect as you hoped it would.
6.10 p.m.
“Currently seeded 2nd in the world, Tezuka is one to watch out for.”
“Jessica, lift your head up just a little bit. Yes, like that, thanks.” She’s the perfect model, they tell you, as beautiful as they come and in your opinion, just about as boring, the kisses she blow at you grating gently on your nerves. Naïve. Shallow. Airy. You hate her very quietly.
“Bringing glory and sexy back to Japanese tennis- ”
“Fuji?
You startle and tear your eyes away from a gaze you didn’t know you were stealing at the screen, where he was staring back at you intently with that never changing half glare of his.
“Ah...distracted. Sorry,” you say.
“I’m living my dream and at this point, I couldn’t want anything more.”
Of course you don’t mean it.
[fin]
5.58 p.m.
It’s sunset over the New York skyline and she lifts her pretty little face to watch it through the glass, all sharp angles and porcelain doll features. A television set babbles on low volume in its lonely corner, emitting the familiar 6 o’clock news theme music. You barely notice, setting your eye to the camera lens and snapping shot after shot of her against the fiery background, both your face and hers bathed in the glow of metal and concrete set aflame.
6.07 p.m.
The newscaster in his tiny little metal box shuffles his papers and clears his throat as the words SPORTS UPDATE flashes behind him in stylish script. “Today’s showdown between the leading man of what has come to be known as the “Japanese Wave”, Kunimitsu Tezuka and popular British player-” You barely flinch at his name but the next shot you take doesn’t come out quite as perfect as you hoped it would.
6.10 p.m.
“Currently seeded 2nd in the world, Tezuka is one to watch out for.”
“Jessica, lift your head up just a little bit. Yes, like that, thanks.” She’s the perfect model, they tell you, as beautiful as they come and in your opinion, just about as boring, the kisses she blow at you grating gently on your nerves. Naïve. Shallow. Airy. You hate her very quietly.
“Bringing glory and sexy back to Japanese tennis- ”
“Fuji?
You startle and tear your eyes away from a gaze you didn’t know you were stealing at the screen, where he was staring back at you intently with that never changing half glare of his.
“Ah...distracted. Sorry,” you say.
“I’m living my dream and at this point, I couldn’t want anything more.”
Of course you don’t mean it.
[fin]