Tough-looking muscled men chopped the trees, cutting nature’s artwork to make way for furniture. Loud women worked with them, chatting and laughing. The little one hid behind the trees, glad that she had no legs. She was scared that they would find her out. She nibbled on the cakes and fruits they had left in the corner. It was the same every year; she longed for new cream cakes and pastries. She paused, startled. A man came quite close to her. If the little one had a heart, it would have thudded. But, she had died 5 years ago.
The fashion model jumped into the boat, her gleaming red hair flying with the wind. She leaned gracefully against the table with a sullen smile. Instructed by her photographer, Jas, she now lay down, her curls in the ground. Jas was not satisfied with her expression. Their entourage moved to the studio where she posed elegantly. Brooding, Jas clicked away randomly.
He edited all his photographs, looking for something. She just did not have the natural smile or poise, he thought. She is not an actress, just a model. He suddenly stopped with a photo. “This is the perfect shot I wanted” he said aloud. She was sporting a natural smile, her red hair slightly ruffled in the wind, eyes animated, apparently chatting with someone. But what was she wearing? A faded jeans and a plain white shirt! She held something very tightly – the pay cheque. Jas smiled, deleted the photo and walked out of the office.