It’s new. It reeks of new, and feels of new. It’s everything she’s been saving for, finally within the grasps of her fingertips. Her itching fingers slide the switch on, bringing the small mechanical box whirring to life. It briefly flashes a bright generic greeting begging to be used. Nayeon doesn’t hesitate to skim through the set up prompts, busily flicking through its main settings.

She pans the camera around her, fiddling with knobs and dials adjusting each motion to the twisted angles of her movements. Amidst the random blur that crosses her view screen, she by chance captures sight of a potentially ideal image. The background is framed nicely with the pillowy clouds and minimal branches of outstretched green, but a little left of centre focus holds vision of a beautiful stranger. The subtlety of the sun’s light draws forth the glow of her skin, and hints of gold in her tresses of chestnut. But the true beauty of this picture was the depth of the subject’s candidness, her unintentional refinement and grace that takes away from the staged beauty witnessed in the work of other artists. However, what captivates Nayeon most is the seamless vectors drawn from wisps of the girl’s hair, outlining the arc of her jaw.

Nayeon momentarily deliberates the decision to steal the photo, but eventually decides that the opportunity is too good to forgo. She presses on the shutter, and seizes the picture for her collection of treasures. But what Nayeon doesn’t account for, is the red light that flickers alerting her unsuspecting victim.

“Hey! I don’t like getting my picture taken, especially by a stranger.” The girl snaps, voice laced with hostility, finger pointing accusingly at Nayeon’s pointed lens.

Nayeon’s breathing hitches in dread. She’s squinting for quite a while, trying to conjure up a rational explanation for her abrasive intrusion. However, she comes to abandon such thought, as she realises it a little too late for a deceitfully strung story. “You looked really pretty with the lighting. I’m sorry it was too good of a picture to miss.”

The flattery doesn’t appeal to the girl, but rather incites her frustration in Nayeon’s inability to comprehend the tone of the situation. “There are plenty of other people around campus for you to bother.” The girl berates, with a swift look of such menacing tenacity, that Nayeon’s anxious gulp gets caught in .

“I’m sorry… It was rude of me to take your picture, without even knowing your name or