“Okay, everyone.” Director Choi clapped once to get everyone’s attention. “We’ve gotten all of the shots necessary for the spring collection. Let’s go for an hour lunch break, starting....” After fiddling with a dial on his watch, he punctuated his exclamation with another clap, “...now!”

The studio breathed a sigh of relief, contrasting with the sudden urgency of the stampede of footsteps rushing to leave for lunch. Relaxing from all of the posing, Joy released the tension from her shoulders and body, slumping almost imperceptibly on her seat in the cross beams of the concentrated studio lights. She rose with all the grace and poise expected of a model, brushing off stray glitter used in the shoot. This “fairy dust” concept was quickly getting on her nerves. Some stylists stayed behind to help Joy out of her outfit, for which she thanked them with a gentle smile.

As she steps toward the exit, she hears the clack of heels approach her. She almost wants to ignore it and walk straight out of the building, but common human decency and the knowledge of who it is stops her from doing so.

"Joy! Don't leave just yet, let me talk to you for a second." Director Choi says. Swiveling on her heel, she greets the director with a nod, inviting her to continue. "I just wanted to thank you for all of your hard work today. You're always such a... joy to work with!" Joy imagines a snare, tom, and cymbal fall off of a cliff. Though she tries to suppress it, the corner of quirks up slightly. She's only really worked with this director on a couple shoots, but was already able to grasp that her artistic vision was unmatched, leadership and direction putting every moving piece, from outfits to staff, in their precise place. That being said, Joy was still coming to grips with how different she was during breaks, incredibly cheesy with too many dad jokes than could reasonably fit in her small frame. Even so, the model always found that the director had the uncanny ability to make her comfortable even during long hours of shoots. 

Joy receives the compliment humbly. "Thank you. I really enjoy working with you too."

Choi nudges Joy with her elbow playfully. "Don't have to be so formal, Joy! I hope you trust me as much as I do you. Speaking of trust, I need to let you in on a little secret." The director leans in cautiously, having to go on her tiptoes to reach Joy's height. "Our photographer got food poisoning and had to rush home to attend to his terrible case of diarrhea. He didn't want me to tell anyone this, since he's really embarrassed, but I thought it would be relevant context for the next thing I'm about to ask you." Director Choi then relaxes her heels, swaying slightly on the balls of her feet. "In short, we need to find a new photographer ASAP. I'm going to use this lunch break to make some calls and see if anyone turns up, but since this is really urgent I need all hands on deck. That brings me to you. Because you've now had a fair amount of experience in the industry, I'm sure you have a couple photographers you've worked with that might be suitable for this coming shoot. I hope I'm not asking too much of you to try and contact them!" Choi clasped her hands together in a pleading motion, making a sad, puppy dog-eyed expression as if to seal the deal. Of course Joy couldn't decline. 

"I'll do my best, Director."

Choi beams, exclaiming her thanks as she heads toward the door, likely on her way to her office. "Thank you so much! I owe you big time!"

Joy waits until she disappears down the hall before leaving herself, steps following the all too familiar path to the park two blocks down. She always found herself winding down from shoots by relaxing there, fond of the opportunity to watch the ducks glide across the pond, observe the trees in bloom, or pet dogs on a walk. Everything there felt so natural. No pretenses and no expectations that the stiff studio often generated. All of the odd angles, the directions from the photographers and the staff. Do this. Don't do that. It got stifling sometimes. She understood that her role as a model was to be nothing more than a glorified mannequin, but she was tired of the objectification. In her early days, her budding interest in modeling stemmed from a desire to present both her personality and her love of fashion, but these days there was more of the latter than the former.

Her growing distaste of the contrived environment was in no small part due to horrible encounters with outsourced staff. Though Joy had become incredibly fond of the individuals that she had consistently worked with over her few years of experience, mainly from her own agency, she couldn't say the same for photographers or stylists that had whisked in and out of her shoots. Perhaps it was the knowledge of their temporary relationship that caused them to act that way, but it definitely did not justify how they would treat her with less dignity than a human being deserved. In fact, her feeling of objectification likely arose from the actions of said photographers. 

As her heels clicked down the block, confident stride and chic outfit drawing the attention of various passerbys, Joy thinks back to specific instances that have gradually worn down her passion for her career. She thinks about the older photographers who were generally harmless while others were about, but would sneak a sly comment once everyone was out of earshot. Surprisingly, it was not always the older men who made her skin boil, but the younger ones who were always too forward and intrusive. As if being nearer in age gave them any more of a shot with her when their behavior became increasingly creepy. Once, they had been wrapping up a shoot, and as Joy was almost always one of the last to go home, she had been left behind with the photographer in the break room down the hall. While rifling through the fridge for the iced Americano she had saved herself for later, he put up his arms to form a barrier like a scene out of a bad 70s flick, trapping her between himself and the fridge door. Although Joy asked him politely to move, or if he needed something out of the fridge, he refused to budge until she agreed to give him her number. Of course, she agreed, beginning to read off a random string of digits until she saw the perfect opportunity to knee him in the balls, promptly exiting the studio while he doubled over in pain. 

Needless to say, Joy's past experiences with photographers weren't exactly the best. Not a single one comes to mind that she would want to invite to this shoot, unfortunately for Director Choi.

She was fuming from recalling these occurrences, but found the sight of the park entrance enough to temper her mood. Slowing her pace, she let out a slow exhale, blowing into the chilly March air. She took a moment to marvel at the receding ripples of the pond, taking a seat at her usual bench and closing her eyes. If only more of her photographers could be women... or if only she could find the one that had inspired her to enter this career to begin with. It was all getting to be too exhausting. 

With all of these thoughts of past regrets swimming through her head, she let herself get lost in the sounds of her surroundings. There was the flapping of wings overhead, the rustling of leaves, and gentle footsteps coming up the walkway. She heard a clasp unbuckle, heard the click of a camera shutter, and suddenly, felt the warmth of a hand on her skin. Instinctively, she grabbed their wrist, eyes snapping open.

A satchel slung across her shoulders. A camera juxtaposing it. Black hair. Suede jacket. Beat up converse. Her usually crescent-shaped eyes were wide open in shock, the only thing Joy found unfamiliar about this woman. 

It was her.