CASSIE, 41, heavily pregnant with a camera resting on her belly. LUCAS, 44, sits slumped against the wall, considering his future.

You meet in a hotel, you’re a traditionalist. Cheap or classy…? Cheap, right? Cheap is fun, and you want to start it out fun. But in a suit. Both of you. Business in a brothel. As you sit down for a terrible, over-priced lunch, you click your tongue off the roof of your mouth, and make play like you’re at the Ritz, before ordering the shittiest thing on the menu. She laughs and flicks her hair. Sorry, with her I’m not too certain on specifics but, generally, I’d venture there’s a whole deal of hair flicking going on.

She takes the camera and slings the strap around her neck. She smiles.

And then…we move from the entree to the main meal! Upstairs. It’s getting dark already. You first while she settles up. Head straight to the bathroom and furiously tuck away your nose hair. Can’t see it across a table, but you can in close up, and she will certainly be close up. You pull at the grey, thin skin around your eyes, despairing, before you realise, fuck it, nothing to be done about that one. That’s just you now.

She gallops up the stairs, the clanging metal your signal to sprint to the window, just in time for her to catch you staring broodily into the half-light. Slow turn, tight smile….”Hello there.”

Holding your head just like this. No…this. Making sure the street lamp glow glances the concave line of your jaw. Just here. Makes you look strong, makes you look serious, oh how you love to look serious.

She takes the lens cap off.

And she’s wearing the pair of boxers she took from the time you brought her here, your blue checked ones – I haven’t seen them for months – which she would never usually wear, but they are very comfortable so I don’t blame her, really, just I wish she hadn’t taken those ones…

She stops herself. She adjusts a setting on the camera. Composed again.

Did you do that? The thing with the jaw? You know you used to do that with me, right? When you were interested. Honestly, I’d catch you pacing to find just the right spot, trying very hard to make it look natural, hilarious.

But I was happy to wait ’cause every time, every time I saw you preparing that face, that perfect composition, I knew you. I knew you wanted me.

You shallow, self-centred shit heel, I know every move you have.

I know you.

I love you.

I do.

She raises the camera to her face to take a picture.

Tuck in that nose hair.

He does.

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