She laughs and points the camera. I hide my face.
“Oh come on, Liv. Just one?”
I sit on the sofa, arms folded. “No.”
She lowers the lens, revealing her heart-shaped face. “How long have we been doing this? They’ve got to see your face sometime.”
The sun slants in through the gap in the curtains, slides across the sofa beside me. “I can just be a name. You’re the pretty one. You can be the face. It’s worked so far.”
She sits beside me, in the patch of sunlight, her hand on my knee. “You are beautiful,” she says, “I wish you could try to see it…”
Her hands, voice, long blonde hair, fade away into that slant of sunlight.
Her last shot, candid, me laughing on the swings at the park, rests in my hands.