Picture Me

It was the year 2018.

To Victoria Elizabeth Jones, the warm July air felt almost like a mother's embrace. Popcorn and cotton candy filled the air with wonderful scents. Her burgundy-stained lips cracked into a wide smile as she balanced herself onto the swinging seat of the Ferris wheel.

"Come on, get in!" she urged Nicholas McAllister, her husband and love of her life.

Nicholas looked up at her as he bent his back to wobble in, his emerald green eyes shining with either amusement, fear, or something in between. The way his wild red hair danced in the sea salt breeze delivered a lustful pang to her heavy chest. She took his pale hand in hers, his calloused palm scraping against her smooth skin, and pulled him over to where she sat restlessly at the far end of the wheel.

The ride operator closed the gate.

Hand in hand with her husband, she felt extraordinarily happy. Her outfit of the day also made her happy. She looked down at herself with pride, taking in sultry colors: deep reds, ivories, charcoals, subtle hints of indigo. She wore a tiny berry-red tank-top, an ivory skirt with floral designs in a similar shade of red, a light cardigan with deep red and some indigo patterns, ivory sandals, and matching berry-red nails on her fingers and toes that shined bright against her skin like a vampire's mouth. She tussled some fingers from her free hand through her wavy, dark-brown hair, which fell like springs onto her shoulders into a shade of dirty blonde at the ends.

She gazed up at Nicholas, who had already been looking at her with the familiar grin that he used when he wanted to laugh but didn't want to embarrass her.

"I like your outfit," he said.

Victoria flashed him her country-wide smile and squeezed his hand.

Nicholas smiled back with that bittersweet look in his eyes, then bent down to kiss her.

A swirling dizziness in her stomach brought the height of the wheel to her attention. They were already almost at the top. She had been on countless Ferris wheels, when she and Nick would travel state to state to attend different fairs and see different boardwalks and go on all the rides. Merry-go-rounds, swinging rides, bumper cars, big roller-coasters. The Ferris wheel, however, was her favorite.

"Remember that one time our Ferris wheel got stuck?" Nicholas asked. "That must've been, what, 1925?"

"Yes!" Victoria said, excitedly. "Wasn't that in Chicago?"

"Nah. New York."

"Oh."

Victoria took a second to reminisce. She actually didn't remember it very well. Or as well as she would have liked. It was easier then, when all they had was each other and their Simplex camera.

"Maybe we should look at our memory box when we get home... if we can even find the picture for that day." She smiled bleakly.

Nicholas rolled his eyes sarcastically. "You and your memory box."

"I mean, it's been over 100 years now, so..." She met his eyes. "I don't want anything to happen to my memories. To our memories."

Nicholas looked away in silence.

The wheel spun around a second time, and Victoria took in the colorful blur of rides, games, animals, clowns, and bored carnies, and the sounds of children winning prizes and sellers shouting about their new and exciting food inventions. She couldn't hear exactly what they said, but her imagination formed images of deep fried bacon and doughnut hamburgers with added ice cream in the middle. Her mouth twisted in disgust.

She was about to say something to kill the silence when Nicholas beat her to it.

"Really, Tori... you have to wait 'til the very top?" Nicholas asked, shifting nervously. "Why do you do this!?"

Victoria took one look at Nick and knew she couldn't wait much longer. The wheel was almost to the top again, but his trembling had already begun. He was trying to sound funny, but his brows were furrowed.

His jaw was clenched. She knew he was scared, and a sweeping sadness came over her.

Why does it happen so much faster these days? She wondered. And only to him?

Fear pushing away opportunity, she hurriedly took out her phone from her leather shoulder purse.

Throughout the years, she always had the privilege of waiting. She always had to find the best place, and the moment always had to be right. If they were on a beautiful morning hike, she had to find that one secret waterfall that no one else knew about. Or be it at the cinema, where she had to find the perfect cut-out movie star to pose next to. In the beginning, she would be smiling or holding hands with Nick, but as they grew into different people overtime, she found inspiration for new poses; sometimes she would throw up a peace sign, because she still held the sixties in her heart, or a middle finger to feel a little rebellious.

Those carefree moments were beginning to fade. In a second, her phone was in front of them both, her right thumb quickly tapping the screen.

Snap.