Page 9

     Angelisa slid closer and put her arm around him and consoled him. Her voice trembled as François's emotions transferred to her and she tried to offer him words of comfort. She let him continue until he had spoken all he wanted.
      "Why did you stay around here after all that?" She asked.
      "I started reading the poetry at the bookstore. It gave me some strength and hope. I knew that the people around here wouldn't understand either but it gave me a kind of invincibility, and a sense of anonymity, if you like. They're all so preoccupied with what it means to them that it leaves me to do whatever I want. It's fun sometimes as well, watching the looks on their faces."
      They chuckle together as the mood lifts. A few stray tears cling to François's cheeks and he wipes them of and sniffles.
      "Well you look pretty good to me," says Angelisa, tightening her embrace for a moment. "I've seen those faces and I think some of them are just jealous that they don't attract so much attention."
      "Thank you," says François standing up and throwing some more wood on the fire. The flames rise and spill their bright light into the room. Angelisa watches as they dance in lively bursts before shooting upwards into the chimney. She sits up with a sudden start as an idea pops into her head.
      "We should take some photos."
      François peers at her, brow furrowed in confusion.
      "Yes! I have the camera and you can be my model."
      François laughs under his breath but his interest is peaked.
      "Like this?" He inquires, straightening up and glancing down his body.
      "Maybe you have some other outfits. Something fun? It doesn't matter anyway, let's concentrate on your face."
      François reluctantly agrees and vanishes into the kitchen while Angelisa's collects her camera from the pile of things on the floor. François strides back into the living room wearing a dark red sweater with the sleeves rolled up, heels and black Capri pants. "Perfect," cries Angelisa and beckons him to join her. They sit cross-legged on the rug in front of the fire and apply François's make-up, he holding the mirror while Angelisa plays artist. She directs him to sit on the sofa and relax and imagines in her head the shots she wants to take. François waits patiently as she turns a dial on the camera and then puts it to her eye. Click, and a whirring follows. Angelisa motions with her hand for him to adjust his position and he follows her wordless instructions with ease. Soon he is standing in front of the fire, posing flirtatiously, as she positions herself at the optimum angle. Then he takes a few steps away from her and flicks his head back in her direction, catwalk style. They quickly reach the end of the roll and Angelisa flops onto the sofa with an exalted cry.
      "Formidable! But that's the end of the film."