It was cold…I guess that goes without saying. I was supposed to helping Dustin with a photography project, but his camera kept breaking.
“Hurry up!” I whined. I could feel my blood freezing.
Dustin’s face contorted in frustration.
“Crap, something’s wrong. I have to stop at Wilson’s Cameras,” he clenched his jaw. Dustin lived up to his name; he had long dusty hair that never fell quite right and pale lips. He never wore coats; only hoodies.
We were best friends, but this was too much.
“I can’t wait any longer, Dusty. I mean, I want to help you, but honestly, it is frigging freezing!” I looked askance at him. Holding up the small wooden frame, I said, “Look at me, I’m frozen.”
He snapped the picture with his long fingers. “Perfect.”