Flash Fiction 2

She browses through the pictures of him, one after the other, waiting for the one picture where he’s actually looking into the camera. “There is not even one pic” she thinks, “of him at least looking in the same direction as the others. That is not too much to ask for, is it?” And then she sees a trend. Every photograph has him looking away. Standing apart from the crowd. Not bothered to even acknowledge a photograph being taken, leave alone pose for one. And then it hits her. She loves him, not in spite of him being the different one, but because of it.


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