She was photographing her shadow in the neon lights. Her shadow posed for her on the wall.

"My shadow's such a proffesional bitch. She lures you with her lusty frame."

She was jealous. But her camera won't listen to her. It kept clicking. Click - clickety - click. When she was checking out the photographs of her shadow, later, she found on the wall her shadow checking out a few photographs too, in each of which she was seen photographing a shadow, holding my hand all the while.

"You belong to the wall", she whispered into my ear.

Labels: fiction, flash fiction, love, photograph, shadow, short story, story, wall