Through the window of her back garden porch, her bedroom light glistened on her skin like porcelain. The way she frolicked around her room, careless to the world, a free spirit left to her own devices. I knew what I was doing was wrong, but why did it feel so right? The nervous trembles got worse by the minute, my vision beginning to cloud.

That inner voice that’s bangs in the back of your head persisted, “Your time is up. Better run.”

But I didn’t care.

With a slow draw of my camera, I tried to savour the moment, but the flash. The panic that follows and the screams of horror. If only she got to know me first, she’d know I mean no harm.

That following morning, the red and blue flashes of light fed me my own medicine, as my chest began thudding. My war drum of a heart scored my life in that moment, stamping me with that awful brand I can now never wash away.

Goodbye mon petit secret.