I sit alone in the daylight at a table at the closed coffee shop that’s a block from my apartment, and my journal and my photographs are scattered across the table. How did he find them? Those photographs were private and personal, and he had the audacity to scavenge through my stuff and find them. Sometimes I get sick of him. Sometimes I get REALLY sick of him. I am sick of him.
I sigh and look up before staring at the sky. I watch the clouds as they slowly swim across the sky. The sun peeks out from behind a dog-shaped cloud, and it looks...different. I can’t put a pin on it as to why, but when I really look at it, the sky isn’t lit up the same way, the rays of the sun don’t shine as they did, and the sun doesn’t radiate the warmth and happiness like I've always remembered it to. It's very...I don’t know how to describe it...sad? Desolate? Dead? I look back down at the table.
You know what? Maybe I’m overreacting about Ezra. I don’t know, I guess it was because of how often he joked about it. “It’s not even a real job.” “Oh yeah, you’re doing your ‘job.’” “Literally anyone can snap can a picture and call it art.” He would always say something negative about it, and I would never show it, but sometimes it got to me. I know he’s joking, but I put a lot of joy and effort into my photos. And I guess that’s why I overreacted so much.
“Leo...these are amazing,” he said as he showed me the pictures. I flashback to what he said. I take a deep breath and exhale slowly, calming myself. He thought they were amazing. Even I don’t consider my photos to be impressive or anything special, and my best friend, who has never once looked at my work positively, found my pictures amazing, and I treated him like crap. I sigh and rub my tired eyes with my fingers.
I pick up one of my photos off of the table and look at it closely. It is of two butterflies flying in the sky, both a silhouette against the bright sun. I put it down and pick up another. This time, it shows an image of an old, abandoned building in the night, illuminated only by the light glow of battery powered lights that still remain not in ruins. I put the picture down and, once again, pick up another. I am surprised by the photo. I had forgotten about this one. It is a candid of Ezra, who is laughing as he sits in the summer grass.
I need to apologize to him...