Chapter Four Continued…

He’d like to tell people that it was his photography that makes him so observant of the smaller details, of the things that most people just blindly walk by.  It wasn’t though, well not when it came to people.   He had a talent, intuition, something that meant he could read people.  He didn’t know what it was, but he could do it.  How they were feeling.  He never knew if exactly what it was that gave them away.  It was the little subtle things.  

Sure, lots of people say the same thing, that they’re so empathic.  And then inevitably they fail to spot what’s going on with a person right infront of them.  Whenever he’d tried to explain it to people so many had immediately pounced on him with the “I’m empathic too” moment, and then whilst busy talking about themselves not spot that he was upset.  Yet if they thought he was ignoring there self-indulgent rant about how they feel everything, they’d let him know he wasn’t as empathic as he thought.  Not once thought did they ever stop to ask a question or ask how someone else was.

So he stopped telling people and stopped talking about himself.  Maybe he would one day.  But only if someone actually bothered to ask him. He loved his friends, but they did rather use him as their ear and shoulder and rarely offered up the same body parts for him to utilise.

There could be three people sitting next to each other, all seemingly in the same position, but he would pick up on how relaxed their legs were, where they were looking, how their hands were resting.  There were so many little tell-tale signs and he could pick from that line up which one of them had something big going on, struggling in some way, which was was happy or proud about something they’d done, and which one was oblivious to the world and didn’t care what anyone thought.  All from just a few moments of watching them.

He had once read somewhere that sad people don’t always walk at a snails pace with their head down, you can be sad and would with a purposeful stride.

However, today, as he watched, that pink cardigan had been unsure, confused.  They seemed to be uncertain.  Despite being bright pink it was also trying hard to be inconspicuous, and failing miserably, in his opinion.  There was a hesitance, nervousness about the steps, although he could also tell they were very uncomfortable walking bare foot on those pebbles, but it was more than that.  It was someone who wanted to be at the waters edge, and yet also seemed slightly scared to be there. 

By the time he’d got across the road from his flat to where he had first seen the flash of pink, just by the blue car, the cardie was about halfway to the water.  He held up his camera to zoom in for a better look.  Wrong lens.  He still had his trusty 50mm prime on it and not a zoom.  He would have to get closer.

Months of sneaking up on unsuspecting seabirds and wildlife he had become quite the beach ninja over the past few months.  His step was delicate and well-placed as manoeuvred silently across the beach behind his unwary target. 

She stopped just short of the water, a few paces back from it.  He quickly lifted his camera to his face and turned to face along the beach to look less inconspicuous.  Did she turn?  Had she spotted him?  He didn’t know if he’d been seen or not.  He the camera for as long felt natural.  If she was watching he didn’t move it would look very suspicious.  So he lowered the camera and pretended to check the screen on the back.  He looked up.  She hadn’t turned.  All that had been for nothing.  Now he felt mildly foolish.  She had moved forward though and was now standing in the water looking down at the sea gently lapping her feet.

He crept closer again.

He was within a few metres of her when he stopped.  That moment, oh, that beautiful moment when he just saw how what an amazing photo that would make.  The sun was shining down on her from their left and creating a warm, glowing outline on the one side of her tall body.  The pink cardigan went from that warm yellow glow on one side to a darker, almost grey-pink where the sun couldn’t reach.  And then that colour against the backdrop of that sea and sky that gradated from dark blue, almost black at the bottom to the palest of blues and wispy clouds at the top.  He had to take that shot.

He lifted the camera to his eye, made some adjustments to the shutter speed and…

Click.

Remember why you’re here, Jonathon! He said to himself.  But that he couldn’t resist two more quick shots just to be sure he’d got that picture.

Click, click.

And then they turned around.He saw their face.  Gorgeous face.  But he could see they were broken.  Their whole body looked sad, tired.