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You were incredibly beautiful: your lovely hair, fluttering in the wind, gave you a special charm. You had recently turned eighteen—an age when the world seems full of limitless possibilities and your heart longs for love and attention. You had a boyfriend, Phil. He captivated you at first sight: his stately figure, penetrating gaze, and impeccable manners. Every day he surprised you with new gifts, demonstrating his genuine care. He was twenty-four, the age of maturity and self-awareness. The only downside was his profession: Phil worked as a judge. He was busy during the day, but he always devoted his evenings to you. Thursday, 7:47 PM. There were only thirteen minutes left in his workday—an eternity of agonizing anticipation. Boredom had already overtaken you, and you'd tried every possible way to dispel it. But the feeling of loneliness wouldn't go away. Unable to bear it any longer, you distracted him, picked up your phone, and texted: — I missed you...

• Where are you??
• Are you ignoring me? A few minutes later the answer came:
• Honey, I'm at work. After reading the message, you decided to tease him a little. With a quick movement, you snapped a photo, pouring all your tenderness and seductiveness into it, and sent it. The seconds dragged on agonizingly. And then the screen lit up with a message:
• Fuck, baby...