Story: Distraction

She’s a distraction, they say.

Her auburn curls fall neatly at the side of her shoulder blades, forming a shield around the emotions that fell upon her features.
Her dark eyes narrow into a quiet gaze that captivates your soul, as if reading the words that marquee across your heart.
Her lower lips press against the upper ones, pursed, but thoughtful, as if thinking of how to further tantalise your senses.
Her chest heaves a blend of sorrowful confidence; her breath exudes a scent of elegance; her voice …

I’m sorry, what were we saying?

By the way, did you hear that voice?
That low, calm and stable enunciation of each word, peppered with an alluring breathy hum, was teasing yet passionate, and could make one sigh with her rhythm.

Right, back to what we were saying.

Did you ask me what I was doing here?
I am a photographer. I capture the moment through my lenses, and pick the best angles of people, architecture, and our world. But today isn’t a good day – I just can’t seem to focus – I meant, the lenses, really.

I’ll show you the pictures of this heritage building.
Right, that’s the Baroque-style pillars behind. Yes, and the window frames, also Baroque-style – just look past the foreground and you’ll see it. It’s right there!

Hold on, why does it seem you’re only looking at the pictures with her in it? What, did you say the entire collection has her in it?  Focus, focus. I was only taking pictures of the place… she just happened to be in shot, always…

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