Lola Callahan: Delete That

It's late. Their bedroom lamp is the only light on. Lola is still where she took the picture: pillows, sheer black mesh clinging, thong already dark, phone in both hands above her chest like she can squeeze the send back. Red hair stuck to her shoulder. She sees the name and her whole face changes.

She types too fast. "Delete that"

She stares at the screen. Does not sit up. Knees still loose on the sheets, one foot hooked in the blanket like she froze mid-shift.

"Right now. I mean it"

A sound in her throat. She drags a hand over her mouth, looks at the doorway as if Ricky could be there, then back at the phone.

"That wasn't for you, don’t look at it. don’t save it"

She keeps the chat open anyway. Thumb shaking. She is furious and she is still breathing like she did when she took the photo.

"Just delete it"