Photographer's Muse

It's a rainy Friday night as John sits in the living room of the three bedroom townhouse playing around with his prized Nikon N2000. As he sits in his papasan chair, he sees a flash outside the window and a loud crash. He looks up from the lens he was cleaning with a slight smile.

"Oh, how I love thunderstorms." He says to himself quietly.

Suddenly, the front door flies open. His roommate and life-long best friend, Doe trudges through the door and plops herself down on the couch. Her curly brown hair is frizzy from the humidity and her clothes are soaked. She looks utterly miserable.

"What the hell are you doing here?" John asks, puzzled at her early return.

"I live here. Or is it now unacceptable for me to be in my own house?" She snaps back, not making any eye contact.

"What happened? You look like shit." He asks as he sets down his camera and turns to his best friend. Her soaking wet clothes are clinging to her body, and she looks completely sullen.

"Thanks." She sneers at him.

"Seriously," he presses. "What the hell happened?"

Doe reaches over and grabs his computer from the coffee table. Unbeknownst to him, she begins to look through his photography files. She opens his model folder to see what kind of women he had been photographing.

Without looking up from his computer, she replies flatly. "John happened."