Fascination

It is a Sunday evening and the reels skips ever so slightly. He is bent over, intently watching the image before him, devouring every inch. He has watched the reel relentlessly for the past 10 years. Her image is etched in his mind. He lives in this reel, his eyes closed he can see each image, each angle of her body, each curve. What is love but an unending fascination?