Amid The Dust Of Fallen Leaves
Photographs
I’d been with them three days. It was morning, and I was sensing some routine. Waiting in the living room, I expected Laura at the piano, Edward and Celeste writing in the den. For me, I’d wait until afternoon for a session with my camera and their lives. For the moment, I enjoyed the quiet of the house.
Laura chose my time of calm reflection to bounce down the stairs from the loft. I looked up to see her voluptuous breasts wiggle and jiggle loosely inside a blue knit sweater.
“Stop,” I called to the sumptuous blonde, picking up my camera.
She leaned over the rail, the sweater pulled tightly against her, a smile danced across her twinkled face. She was rarely so exuberant, rather melancholy for reasons never explained. A half dozen melancholy
