Marcie“My turn,” I blurt. There’s something way too earnest in his blue eyes. It crawls over my skin, icy and strange.Ben blinks. “Oh. Uh, yeah. You want to use your camera or mine?”“Mine.” I yank the rest of the leaves from my jacket, then shed it entirely. It’s way too hot for a jacket anyway. I stuff it back in my bag then pull out my camera.Compared to Ben’s, it’s dinky.But he’s a professional photographer. There’s no point in comparing. I just need to get a good enough shot to convince myself I’m making things up.“Uh, go sit,” I say. “No, you did that. Stand.”“You can do stuff I did.” Ben stands in front of the tree. “I am, in theory, the teacher.”Don’t remind me. I set up a simple shot. He’s tall enough that I can use his body to mark the thirds in the picture.It looks terrible. I take it anyway. But when I look in the viewfinder, his eyes are closed.“You blinked,” I say.“Sorry.” He smiles awkwardly. “We can do one where I’m holding my eyes open?”“I think Kubrick cov
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