In short she had to tell a story. Anyone could flap an eyelid and snap a photo, few could really tell a story with exposure and composition and focus....er Read Hair draped over her neck, the same porcelain neck that was bundled up in a grey scraf and a deep red leather jacket. She had no makeup on; it would only be ugly icing on her skin and would offer no protection to the Emerald City’s perpetual winter. There was little need for it though: her freckles speckled her face just enough to give. She didn’t consider the apartment a home. Gerald lived in an apartment while he was in college, shared with Brian. But neither of them considered the apartment home. “Home,” said an old adage, “is where the heart is.” Well, Gerald’s heart lived firmly in his chest. The home that most people talked about always seemed to Gerald to be where their stuff was. His friends were constantly running home to get their ball glove, to eat, to watch TV. The idea of home was meaningless, Gerald had once. More

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