Pictures of You

"Could you turn a little to the left?" The bride moved her body slightly, rustling the grass with her long dress. Her husband instinctively opened his arms to lean her body against his broad chest. She then turned in my direction and flashed a bright smile. I smiled in return and captured the moment.

"Okay, now shake it out." They looked at me confused before doing as told. I let out a tiny, airy laugh, "Perfect." My lips were slightly agape as I concentrated on steadying my camera to catch a picture before the couple noticed. They only noticed when the tiny clatter of the shutter sounded.

I pulled up the review screen and looked at the shot. The couple's hand were clasped tightly, their eyes closed. Broad grins spread on their faces. The bright sun was shinning down on the two, blurring everything unimportant. It was the moments like this that made me remembered why I did this. Pushing on my knees I rose up to my normal height and stretched a bit.

"I think we have enough now." I said to the two. They shyly nodded.

"Hey, you had a beautiful wedding and you," I turned to the groom, "have a beautiful wife." The groom flashed his pearly whites and a mischievous gleam sparkled in his eyes. His arms wrapped around his wife and he picked her up. A look of terror splashed onto her face and the groom laughed, placing a loving kiss on her lips. I couldn't restrain myself and without making sure they were in the shot, I snapped a photo.

I bid the couple good bye amid promises of future sessions. I, myself, promised to have the pictures returned to them before their honeymoon. I waved one last time one last time and made my way out of the venue to the parking lot.

My sad looking '68 Chevelle was one of the few remaining cars in the lot. The blue paint was chipping and the grill and fender were almost rusted to a non-noticeable point. The rusty door opened with squeak and the passenger's side door let out a groan when my books feel from the seat against it and into the floorboard.

I placed my camera bag down and rummaged through, making sure everything was in its proper place. I then carefully placed the bag in the floorboard of the back seat. I turned to face the windshield and sent silent prayers to the classic car gods. A sigh of relief escaped my pink lips as I heard the engine roar to life. I hoped that I could make it on the highway.
I rolled my window down and swung my car out of the lot.

The car begrudgingly glided across the highway at enough speed to cause a breeze to dance over my arms. It wasn't warm, Pittsburgh never really was to me, but it was okay. The breeze had just enough strength to cause tiny goose bumps to raise on my pale arms.

The ride to my dorm from any location was always less than entertaining, save for the days there was rowdy traffic or something going on in the city. My pathetic, but still functioning radio didn't aid anything much with it's one set station, so I was left to my own thoughts for entertainment.

There was this little game I played on my way home. It involved joggers, coffee shop patrons, or anyone in my sight. I would glance them over and then fix up a story about their situation. For instance, the woman in lavender exiting the bookstore on my left just bought a book her granddaughter had been suggesting for quite sometime. It was a childish game, but I found it interesting.

I turned into campus and found a parking space. I grabbed my bags and slipped them on my shoulder, the straps digging in because of the immense weight added by the few textbooks I could fit in my school bag. I grabbed another handful of books and miraculously managed to lock my car. The stairs were the only remaining obstacle before I could relax.