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December 5, 2007

Wednesday

Your photograph didn't turn out quite as planned...

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David: Suffering For Art

At last, the setting was perfect. Every hair was in place. Her head was tilted just so. Her makeup was flawless. The lighting was ideal, with no unflattering shadows while maintaining youthful vigor. Her gown was fitted perfectly, without a wrinkle or errant fold in sight, and the pearlescent baubles sewn onto the fabric gleamed. Her daintily gloved hands folded neatly, primly in her lap. She was the feminine ideal, brought to life through his effort and skill.

“I told you,” he said, locking the hoist chain and readying the camera, “I’d get this shot if it killed you. Smile.”

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Ted: Bound

"Hey, babe? Look at this. Remember that little town we stopped in while we were on vacation,? The one by the river? Where we watched that blacksmith guy?" Jake watched his wife's face until the light of recognition clicked on. Progress had been slow after her stroke, or whatever her attack had been.

"Of course, dear," came her near lifeless reply.

"I just got the pictures back from the lab. This is really weird. Look at the smithy guy. Do you see it?"

"The Smith? I see him."

"He looks like he's got extra arms. Isn't that weird?"

"Of course."

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