In frame:
    There are three of them, or four, or six. The number doesn’t matter. They walk down the school hall towards the lunchroom, laughing, smiling, joking. They walk as part of a group, unique people with complementary personalities. They walk with a purpose. The conversation carries, echoing slightly through the hall.
Out of frame:
    There I am. Walking a little behind the group. If asked, they would say that I’m their friend. I am technically part of the group, yet it’s more like I’m dipping my toe, my foot, my leg in the water. It’s warm, and nice. But it seems like it’s not entirely safe. There are phantom sharks, tricks of light, swimming beneath the water. That’s why I hover just behind, only testing the waters.
In frame:
    A shoulder is turned, frozen, looking back at me, waiting patiently, understanding. I don’t have to completely submerge myself.
Out of frame:
    There are so many possibilities, so many ways to be in the frame, so many chances to erase all signs of myself from the frame.
    There are so many options, but this is only a picture, a snapshot. This is where the story starts. This is where the story ends.