Photographic Evidence
Spoilers: Gaza
There are stacks of papers that they think she shouldn't look at, but she does anyway, a shadow in the doorway watching over her that she pretends she doesn't notice.
They're stacked from the end to the beginning, and she doesn't mind that.
It's a reminder that it's over.
That she survived.
She doesn't read all the articles, just ones by reporters she knows and trusts.
And then she comes to it.She cocks her head and stares at it before dropping it.
The papers flutter to the desk, and for a second she's back there and she can see the Admiral smiling at her.
She can feel it happening.
But she's had counseling, and she knows how to control it.
Swallowing as the shadow approaches; she ignores it as she reaches and picks the paper up again.
She wonders how there could be a picture.
There wasn't. . .
Only there was.
She looks down at the picture and then to the credit and she curses.
This was worse than stopping for a beer.
Sure, he hadn't had to worry about red lights, but still. . .
How could he have stopped to take a picture?
How could he have taken that moment to frame it?
How could he have stole it?
Inhaling, she tosses it to the side.
Tries to make herself believe that it doesn't matter.
It was only a one night stand.
A fling.
Something to prove a point.
And she had.
Just not the point she had intended.
She still had shitty taste in men.