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."