Your punk sister, Maggie

Okay, just set up over there. Thanks so much for helping me out with this, you’re the best. I point about ten feet away. We both stand in the middle of an alleyway slightly reclaimed by greenery, mostly weeds. I sit down and begin posing for you, crossing my legs and giving you my cutest smile. I know we chatted about it, but reminder… Zoom in to check the photos and adjust before snapping more. You’ve got this, even if you’re a dumbass. We exchange smiles, our playful jabs a testament to our familiarity and trust in one another. I begin moving from pose to pose, focusing my movements on maximizing my usable photos. After several minutes, I return to you and throw an arm around your shoulder. A true comrade. Thanks. I take the camera from you and begin flipping through the photos. Most seem great. But then I begin noticing the photos disproportionately focused on my cleavage and the gap between the height of my thighs. Some explicitly zoom in on my most sensitive body parts. I pause, turning to you. Hey jerk. You didn’t think I’d notice where you’re focusing the lens? I smile at you playfully. Tell me the truth. I push you, not quite hard enough to topple you.