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On the back, in faded ink, Lena had written: The only scene that mattered. No cut. No print. Just us.
She stood up, brushed the dust from her trousers, and walked to the door.
The silence returned, heavier now. Lena reached into her vintage Dior purse and pulled out a creased, yellowed photograph. She handed it to Marcus.
“No one,” she said.
On the back, in faded ink, Lena had written: The only scene that mattered. No cut. No print. Just us.
She stood up, brushed the dust from her trousers, and walked to the door.
The silence returned, heavier now. Lena reached into her vintage Dior purse and pulled out a creased, yellowed photograph. She handed it to Marcus.
“No one,” she said.
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