Jack Harrison stood in front of his office window overlooking the lake as he let his thoughts drift back to her. They somehow always did, whether he was here or not. Even still, this had always been the place Jack could feel her most.
No matter how many years passed, he could still picture her there underneath the tree that first summer, and though he could barely remember the boy he was then, in his mind he could still see her there under that tree, pointing her camera toward some unknown object near the lake. Whatever it was, she was forever looking through that lens. He never could quite see what the big deal was. He could remember how alone she looked sitting there that afternoon and also how like him being alone didn’t appear to bother her all that much. He recalled how, finally, when he could not contain his anger any longer he strode over and stood over her, his hands on his hips, his expression fierce. Even years later, and though he would never have admitted it then, he could remember how sweet, how innocent, how beautiful she looked as she lowered her camera, looked up at him and smiled. No one had ever smiled at him the way she did—not before or after that day.
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish