The Photos

 

     


     He wanted to send her a message, to tell her to stop posting those photos on her Instagram, which he considered thirst traps, those suggestive photos that showed some of her skin, like her legs and thighs, or her shoulders, or her back, not because they were unattractive or not pretty but because they made him restless… restless because he couldn’t be with her and caress those skin she was showing.

     But then, why would she talk to him? Why would she read his message? Why would she listen to him? He would just scare her. A message from him to her would just make her run away from him—screaming.

     So, he couldn’t do anything but whine to himself while looking at her photos. And this just crossed his mind—for whom those photos were?

     And the thought just made him more restless—and made him squirm more underneath his grave.

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