Post-Action Thoughts

I don't think he really understood I sat down until I leaned against the tree. That's when he turned his head towards me and just stared for a few seconds, before switching his gaze back to what he was originally looking at.

Silence. All I could hear was the whisper of the leaves and the ebbing of the tide, far away from us. The scent of orange was faint in the air, a tang of citrus swept away by the salty breeze and carried away into the outer world.

If anyone ever invented something that could make me talk when I wanted to or needed to, I'd pay them a million bucks for it. Apparently, my inner turmoil was visible.

"It's calming."

I hadn't been really expecting him to speak (who'd talk to the quirky, camera-toting girl?), but I was happy at the utterance of the two words anyway.

"Yes, isn't it?" I sighed, fiddling with the lens of my camera. Finally, I took the decision and lifted to my eye, centering the view-finder on the neverending horizon of cosmic blue. When I was satisfied with the combination of orange blossom petals and azure, I pressed the capture button.

My ever loyal Polaroid (yes, it was an antique) spewed out the picture, I took it away carefully and waved it, making sure it was dry before I held it at arm's length for inspection.

I clicked my handy pen open, ready to title my photo. The pen stopped a centimeter away from the shiny paper. My mind was whirring. What to name it?

Well, a description would be good. I decided to write down what was plastered all over his face these last few weeks.

'Loss,' I scribbled at the bottom, and handed him the photo. He accepted it with a puzzled look. I made a mental side note: he had brown eyes.

"Keep it if you'd like," I mumbled, and got up, dusting off my jeans.

When I had gotten halfway into my yard, I realized something that made me fill to the brim with regret. After what I'd done, there was no way I could speak to him again. It'd be too embarrassing.

But then again, I wanted to know what his name was.

The End

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