“I need a new profile picture on Facebook,” I tell her. “Not funny,” she says. “Everyone already knows,” I point out, taking another one. “I don’t have anything worth blackmailing me for,” she says. Snap. Snap. Snap. “Kiss me,” I say. Her face turns upward. I can barely see the outline of it, flash-blind. “Don’t argue about it, just kiss me,” I say. She does. I take a picture. I take five, and then I put my phone down and just kiss her back.
