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The Studio - The Collection

The Studio - The Collection

(This in an excerpt from Episode 1. Marcia).
By the age of thirty Jim had reached a crossroads in his life. He still loved his job but spending all day every day taking baby pictures and family groups with recalcitrant children and doing weddings, on average every other weekend, wasn’t quite what he’d had in mind when he went through photography college. He’d tried his hand at work for the advertising sector in his early days but taking endless streams of photos of chocolate boxes and cosmetic bottles just wasn’t his thing either.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
Marcia, his wife of seven years, looked across the breakfast table at him, having noted his increasingly pensive moods over the last few weeks.
“It’s nothing really…”
She stood up and moved to stand behind him, where he was waiting for his second cup of coffee to cool enough to be able to drink. She placed her hands on his shoulders and began to knead the tense muscles. She bent down and kissed the top of his freshly showered head.
“Pull the other one, Jim. You know I know you better than that…”
The unspoken question mark at the end of the sentence necessitated a response and Jim was well aware of the fact that she was preternaturally capable of seeing though any little white lie or deception.
“I don’t know, darling. It’s just…”
“Go on.”
“It’s work. I mean I still love the photography but taking the same types of shots day in and day out is wearing me a bit, you know.”
“And…?”
He leaned his head back against the underside of her bust and marvelled at the fact he had managed to find such an understanding beauty to marry him. He looked up at her and smiled.
“It’s just a rut. I’m feeling a little stifled in the creativity department, that’s all.”
She smiled down at him.
“What time is your last appointment today, sweetheart?”
“About two, I’ll be finished by three.”
“Hmm…”
“What are you up to, darling?”
“I’ll be your three o’clock today then, sweetie. I’m sure I can lift you out of your rut.”
A throaty little giggle echoed back down the hall as she left to get dressed for her own morning.

* * * *

Jim was a little nervous all day. Marcia had never let him take pictures of her other than for occasional holiday snapshots and very rarely came anywhere near the studio unless they’d arranged lunch or were going straight out after closing. Now she appeared to have booked herself in for a portrait.
He tried to concentrate but every time that throaty little giggle played in the vaults of his mind, he lost the thread of what he was doing.

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