She’d been staring at that door for what felt like years, but had only been weeks, hoping in vain he would walk through and make her feel whole again. She needed fixing, the kind of fixing that only his presence could provide. At time she loved and loathed herself for feeling that way, but in any event, she continued to watch the door. She had no choice.
He stared hard into the lens and said “i cant be on the internet just now”. Quietly I squoze the trigger, forever committing him to the emulsion.