Photo Essay: Sanding ~ Fire

“This one is very, very yellow!”

She winced a little as the plea in his voice tainted the photograph of the very, very chiseled man on her Tinder app. She gave the image a flick to the right, thinking, I’ll come back for you later….

When she looked up, toward the prancing little voice, she didn’t even see her date. All she saw was the blaze of colour.

The echo of seven staccato Ferrari-red heel clicks brought her to the flames raging on the gallery wall.

“Yesssssss,” she breathed as the last click died in the gallery.

“I think it’s a bit bold,” he intoned.

“Of course you do,” she rasped, taking in the fully saturated yellow, the way it licked like fire against the vigorous reds, as if trying to reach the luscious orange fuel within.

She clicked on her phone’s camera app while carefully framing the picture.

“I don’t think you’re allowed to do that,” he warned her.

“People have been telling me that all my life.”

She switched back to Tinder, adding the photo to her profile, thinking for a moment before captioning it

Hovering over the submit button, she glanced over at her date, now mooning over an image featuring a palette of precious lavenders.

She clicked the submit button, while clicking off toward the exit.