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【JOSEPHINE】

For the third time, I adjust the exposure.

Now, it's too light.

This is supposed to say young love not I don't know how to use my light meter.

Not holy shit that's me and Hero.

Six hours of editing and I'm still not anywhere near objective.

But then it's not like I need to make these better.

They're turned in. Done. Complete.

This is for my portfolio.

It's good enough.

I can stop obsessing.

Stop giving into the excuse to stare at these images and see how much they scream wow, Josephine isn't over Hero. She really wants to get under him.

That's what the images are supposed to say.

No one knows our history.

No one knows what a fucked-up mess this is.

My phone buzzes against the table.

Hero: Final's done.

My heart warms.

My stomach flutters.

My limbs get airy.

I swear, I'm going to float out of this chair.

Even with Katherine pacing back and forth in the kitchen, debating hairstyles with Mom.

My sister mumbles something about retro curls.

Mom mumbles something about hair extensions.

I sink into the couch.

Josephine: Humility doesn't suit you.

Hero: I destroyed it.

Josephine: Sounds more like it.

Hero: What are you doing?

Looking at pictures of us making out.

Josephine: Catching up on work.

"No, Mom! I'm not going back to my natural color." Katherine taps her foot against the tile floor in the kitchen. "I've been a brunette for ten years now."

"It was just an idea, sweetie."

Mom follows Katherine out of the kitchen, into the living room, up the stairs.

Both of them shoot me that ugh, won't you talk some sense into her look.

I offer my best what can I do shrug.

After two years living with Dad, I'm no longer used to the yell, fight, makeup, fight, makeup brand of conflict.

Josephine: Are you going to offer me Mercy's number?

Hero: I don't give that out.

Josephine: Even for me?

Hero: You could ask for anything else. It would be easier.

"Josephine!" Mom stomps down the stairs with an exaggerated ugh. "Will you talk to your sister?"

"Sure." I'll tell her whatever she wants to do with her hair is fine. But I will talk to her.

"Thanks, sweetie." Mom leans down to press her lips to my forehead.

"Is everything okay at your father's?"

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