thelonelywriter___
Tucked in his wallet, there was a print ad for her lingerie brand, edges worn from fingers tracing the outline of her waist when boredom gnawed at him.
An image to pass the time, to burn through the long and cold winter nights when there was nothing else to hold.
The photo had been folded and unfolded a hundred times in his idle moments.
She was fantasy, indulgence, a pin-up angel to ease tension on long nights. Nothing more.
Just a decadent treat tailored as candy for the eyes.
Until the sound reached him.
That sound.
Click. Click. Click.