Fingerprints on Photos
A/N: I'm sorry for not updating! I was sick last week with the WORST head cold in the planet. But it was worth it because I started planning out a new novel. And it will be great. Oh! And I got a new laptop. Windows Surface Pro! Anywho, onward to the story!
. . .
In front of me are dozens of pictures. Motoki had them and I do not want to know where they came from. All that matters is that I have them and they are mine. The glossy images stare at me, her face in each and every one of them. Most of them show me her smile while others are far more serious. But still there are pictures of her pouting and making faces at the camera.
Cute considering the only face she ever shows me is either a pout or a frown. She would never smile for me—not even if he asked. Not that I would ever dare ask her. No, that would be terribly creepy. I would never forgive myself.
It is still nice, though, having these pictures. In my head I can pretend she gave them to me. Even better that I took them and she made these faces. Yet these would always be just my imagination playing tricks on me as if she actually cared about me. That blonde would never give me the time of day.
So all I have are these pictures. There are only a few, but it more than I have of even myself or my friends. She is special and these pictures are quite enough to silence my head telling me to make more of myself and ask her out. That will never help it.
A girl like her, bubbly and full of life, would never dare ever date a man like me. Antisocial, irritable, and mean man who does not even know how to flirt with her.
These pictures are all I have. And the fingerprints I leave on them as my fingers flip through them make them mine forever. Nobody can take them away from me.
. . .
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