WallpaperPosted: July 15, 2015
It was at their private “white trash” party.
They had donned shorts and tanks, bought some 40’s and sat on the deck, drinking, talking and grilling exquisitely marbled ribeyes – there are some things you can’t skimp on even when you are joking around. Steaks are serious business.
She, the accomplished executive with perfect clothes and manicure and “business” accent, braless in her tank, drinking a Natty Light 40 from a can.
He had to get a picture. Once stored, he made it his wallpaper.
“What’s going to happen when one of your dates sees my picture on there?” as she drank she had become very inquisitive about The Others.
Dates for him were planned, methodical. Every detail was attended to. There is no way he would have a picture of Her – or of any other woman – as his wallpaper on a date. That would be a rookie move.
But he had a secret.
When he was alone – as he was most often – with his phone laid near him, face up, where each time a call or text came he could see the wallpaper, he could put whatever picture he wanted on there. Just for him. His wallpaper was always a picture of her – and had been for months. Her on the landing in black and white. Her at ACL. Her on the deck the day before they first met. Her face at the convention with the others cropped out. Her in her bed…
But he couldn’t tell her that, she might think she mattered.