Love Through a Lens
one.
Valerie remembers the day she focused her line of vision on him.
It was snowing outside, but it wasn't all that cold. The flakes were large and watery, falling as slowly and softly as cotton. She'd forgotten her coat in the car, so her sweater had become soggy and clingy.
She had her photography class at the end of the day. It was just as long as the other classes, but it passed so quickly that she barely had time to appreciate it. The corners of her mouth turned down at the sound of the afternoon announcements, and she trudged slowly out of the classroom, her camera in hand as she began to gently place it in her bag.
She stopped moving as she looked up. She watched a long-fingered hand run through stick straight sandy hair, and thin legs that shifted under the jeans covering them. A head tilted up and a pair of piercing eyes met hers. The mouth below them softened; it wasn't a smile, but it was still a warm expression.
When he looked away, her hand rose, clutching her camera, and the shutter seemed to click on its own.
That day, she'd gotten her first picture of KC.
She somehow knew that it wouldn't end there. And it didn't.
It was snowing outside, but it wasn't all that cold. The flakes were large and watery, falling as slowly and softly as cotton. She'd forgotten her coat in the car, so her sweater had become soggy and clingy.
She had her photography class at the end of the day. It was just as long as the other classes, but it passed so quickly that she barely had time to appreciate it. The corners of her mouth turned down at the sound of the afternoon announcements, and she trudged slowly out of the classroom, her camera in hand as she began to gently place it in her bag.
She stopped moving as she looked up. She watched a long-fingered hand run through stick straight sandy hair, and thin legs that shifted under the jeans covering them. A head tilted up and a pair of piercing eyes met hers. The mouth below them softened; it wasn't a smile, but it was still a warm expression.
When he looked away, her hand rose, clutching her camera, and the shutter seemed to click on its own.
That day, she'd gotten her first picture of KC.
She somehow knew that it wouldn't end there. And it didn't.