The hand behind the camera signals: more.
I would smile, but I know better. Instead, I let out another sob, dreadful and echoing. I feel Mike twitch away from it. Amateur. If he was going to break up with me, I was going to get another show out of it.
The hands signal again. More.
I bury my face in his neck. Tears flow freely. I clench my fist around his dead father’s fountain pen—a parting gift because I meant so much to him. Gag.
More.
I raise the pen behind his back.
I’m going to be so famous.
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