“What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?”
I look up, startled by the voice from my past that came from behind me. “People watching.” I keep my back to him as I snap a picture.
“Not much to see.” I felt his eyes scan the area around us.
“More than enough…if you know what to look for.” Letting my camera hang against my chest, I pull out a note pad and copy the inscription from the tombstone at my feet. “What are you doing here?” I turn to face him.
His dark hair hangs long over his smoky eyes. The fading light of day shines off his annoyingly straight teeth, making the stand out against his tanned skin.
“Saw your mom at the store…she said you were home for a few days. Thought you’d be out here.”
He falls into step beside me as I pick my way to the back of the snow-covered cemetery. It startles me that he remembers my habits so well. I’m the only one in town crazy enough to be out, laden with camera equipment, in two feet of fresh snow.
“The light was…interesting.” I crouch down trying to get the perfect angle while juggling my bag to keep it out of the snow. He tries not to laugh as he takes my bag, sling it over his shoulder, taking up his role as my packhorse as if no time has passed.
“What’s your project?”
My foray into the world of photojournalism is no secret. Not in a town as small as
It unnerves me how easily we fall into our old routine. As I take the rolls of film into the blackroom, he pops the memory card from my digital camera into the computer. I had spent the previous night cleaning the small photo lab my dad had built in our attic. Ensuring that everything was still in working order.
“You don’t have to stay…I’m not trying to hit a deadline.” I call through the closed door as I line up the spools and canisters on the counter.
“I know, but you never answered my question, and now I’m curious to this latest project of yours.”
Scissors! Why do I always forget the scissors! It was inevitable; no matter how carefully I prepare, I always forgot them. “Hey,
“It’s always the scissors.” I could hear amusement in his voice. I groan and slam the door in his face.
