She takes photos of everything. She presses the shutter button at the skyline view from the Ferris Wheel, the tourist couple behind her tickling each other’s tummy, the crying lost child in the corner, the two-goth couple kissing with tongue and sound, and my passive face watching her. She hands me the camera and asks me to take a picture of her for her author’s page. She tells me the angles she wants, but she doesn’t care with the result I give, considering I only edit and publish books, and not take pictures for the content.
She takes out a cigarette and I take it from her willowy fingers. She tells me how beautiful life is. She says she wants to see more of its beauty. I don’t ask her how she will do it, but I warn her not to do it. She tells me to make sure her photobook will get published. I don’t assure her, but I tell her to do my best.
The Ferris Wheel descends and the door opens. We are the last ones to exit, but as I walk to the platform, she slips through the gap and down the concrete cement she falls.
WORD COUNT: 200
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