Monday, January 01, 2007

Anton

I pulled my t-shirt over my head. I scratched my back. 
"Hold still," said Anton. He lay back on the bed and held the camera to his face. 
"Smile."
The flash blinded me, I couldn't see.
"Do you want something to hold on to?"
"A hand rail?" I said.
"No problem," said Anton. His voice was husky and low. "Hold onto this."

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