“Not again!” I sighed, as I was
looking through the photographs I took on my recent holiday.
I always get
photobombed. Every, single, vacation. Urgh. As my finger hovered above the
delete key, a chill ran down my spine. That guy, in the photo, he looked really
familiar, like maybe I’ve seen his picture somewhere before.
It can’t be, that
this same person has photobombed me before? It’s not like I can check, I’ve
always deleted the photos that got ruined by idiots like him. I’ll just have to
catch him again.
I became obsessed, taking selfies, wefies, even asking random
strangers to take photos of me, everywhere I went. Then every night at home,
I’d browse through the photos I took that day, always searching for him.
next, yawn, I’ve been doing this for a couple of months now,
still no sign of him, maybe I’m just being parano- wait. Was that him? Oh shit
it is him.
He’s holding up a sign. Trembling, I zoomed in on the sign to get a
“Looking for me?” The sign said. “Look behind you