His camera has captured every flaw. My confidence erodes with each new sheet. It is an unkind gaze this device has rendered. No rosy caress of a lover, no blurring of flaws or softening of edges, only stark truth. He is impatient.
Time is money.
He waves at this thumbnail and that while making small huffing noises when I go backwards to review. His eye is better than mine, his hand so much more steady. By the second page all of the images have begun to merge. On the third page he moves in closer. I can smell the oil on his hair and hear his breath.