In one of my photography tutorial sessions, Byron and I were taking pictures. He was teaching me how to focus on an object and how to balance light. In the compound we were using, was a mango tree with a strong branch. From appearance, it seemed so close to the ground. My brain convinced me that I could climb and reach it. So I went.

It wasn’t long before I realized that the branch was a bit higher than I had anticipated. When I requested, Byron came to help. He carried my legs so that I could reach out and grab the branch.

First, I’m scared of heights. Two, I’m unfit. Three, I’m heavy. Byron noticed on his first attempt to lift me that he needed both hands. The only challenge is that he was carrying a camera. As fate would have it, the camera lost balance in the process of him carrying me.

He had to pick between saving me – or the camera.

If he kept hold of me, the camera would drop. Being a photographer, that camera was Byron’s source of income. From it he paid his tuition, rent, bought food and sustained himself. If he chose the camera, I would drop.

I will never be able to explain how….but somehow he managed to grab hold of the camera before it hit the ground and still hold on to me firmly. That must have been the hardest decision ever. I was so sure he was going to drop me, given his love for his camera. But he didn’t.

Later when I visited his place, on his wall was one of the pictures he had taken of me that day in the tree. It was surrounded by pictures of his female clients; all of them beautifully covered in make-up. They were striking fancy seductive poses and smartly dressed in designer attires. Mine looked out of place. I was in plain every-day clothes, no makeup, my hair was in an open disorganized puff….and I was sitting in a tree, smiling.

Other than to embarrass me, I wondered why else he had picked that picture. Especially when at one time he had exclaimed about a folder with my images and videos taking up the most space on his laptop. Mark you, most of which he took and filmed without my approval. And of all the options, he had picked the one when I hadn’t even tried with my appearance.

I never asked about the photo and why he had chosen it. I couldn’t even believe that my picture was up on his wall of fame. But I can only imagine what a tale he would tell if at all anyone ever asked.

The End.

Disclaimer: The names that feature in this story are fictitious. They were made up to protect the identity and privacy of those involved.

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