Day 96

I exhaled smoothly letting the thin fibers of grass brush against my pale skin as I sat in the grass, a large oak tree positioned above me. With my camera resting against my chest I curled my fingernails into the dirt and let my eyes slide shut as a cool breeze shoot the leaves and branches above. Everything was peaceful for once. Everything was normal. I opened my eyes a bit and wrenched myself upwards quickly, hearing the footsteps of someone nearby. I had hoped it was Marc, but instead it was just a simple jogger. I watched them curiously, each one of their muscular calves hitting the ground in front of them at a reasonable pace, beads of sweat collecting across their forehead.

“Why are you on the ground?” I flinched and twisted my vision upwards a bit, looking to the left I saw him standing there just above me a few paces. He wasn’t exactly dressed casual but it was a good change from his usual uniformity. He was wearing a long collared dress shirt that was pale blue and vertically striped, his shoes were much too fancy to be casually walking around in, and he was wearing black slacks. His hair was shorter than I had originally seen it, and slicked back just a bit-- but still, longer than mine. In his left hand was a bouquet of assorted flowers; some of them red, some of them purple, and some of them yellow and blue even. There had to be at least twenty of them.

“Because it’s soft-- Do you think I’m fat?...” I spat out a bit faster than I had originally planned. Actually it wasn’t planned at all, it was mere impulse from seeing the jogger take it upon himself to exercise.

“Not at all.” was all he said on the topic. I sighed briefly before pulling myself up from the ground below, and brushing the collected debris from my legs.

“Are those flowers for me?” I said excitedly clapping my hands together. He noticed the gleam in my eye and stared softly, the left side of his face tugging into a confused smirk.

“Ah, no.” his tone was a bit more concerned. I assumed he didn’t want to hurt my feelings but I wasn’t phased. It just wasn’t my day to receive flowers.

“Then who are they for?” I protested as we started to walk back to the sidewalk. He grinned for a short moment and paced himself, looking down at his feet.

“I was kidding, they’re for you.” he smirked, handing me the mass of plants. I smiled briefly and inhaled their fragrances, letting the silence start to linger between us. We hadn’t ever spent much time together until now. They were usually unexpected run in’s, resulting in him getting angry with me for interrupting a meeting or, making him late to one. But I didn’t mind. Something about him was eye catching. Everyone looked twice when he walked past him, and I wanted to know why. He rubbed the scruff around his mouth and smoothed back his hair as we walked on silently winding around the curve, making our way over to the lakefront.

“So, Marc, are you curious as to what I do for a living? Because I’m a photographer, as you know, and aspiring author I do believe.” His attention was still at his feet, hands shoved into each pocket. “I take pictures of mostly scenery, because people are a lost cause in both meanings of the phrase... but I especially like to take pictures of animals. I have a dog who’s the perfect specimen for my projects. He likes to do the cutest little poses and…” I stopped talking and found myself talking only to myself. He had stopped walking all together, and was sitting on the edge of the sidewalk.

“Hey!” I shouted in his general direction. His hazel gaze shot an icy stare back at me, giving me a sharp chill. But alas I had grabbed his attention. “I was talking to you!” A short smile creased across his face, but he turned and face the water once again. I glared and started to sulk, parading over to him quickly. “Why’d you stop?” I demanded.

“I got tired. Why didn’t you notice?” he argued back, still not giving me a direct look. I paused for a brief moment, chewing on the insides of my cheek. I muttered something fierce and grabbed at my camera. Without thinking about it I focused the lens on Marc’s face and snapped a picture. Hearing the sound of the shutter he darted his attention to me and glowered.

“What was that for?” he sneered, pushing himself off the ground. Grinning to myself I let my camera droop once more and took a massive step backwards, fearful of what he’d do next.

“Memories?” I said hesitantly as he walked towards me at a quicker pace.

“Delete it.”

“No. Quick acting like a prepubescent boy and calm down.” I joked. He glared at me and threw his arms out quickly, but I managed to wiggle past the length of them just fast enough to bound down the sidewalk. I started to laugh a bit, watching him try to catch me. His face was more at ease. The kind of facade that said: I’m not mad at you, but I’m mad at you. I ran ahead a bit more, feeling my legs start to burn underneath me I stopped after a matter of moments, my body already worn out.

Turning around to see if Marc was going to clobber me, I was greeted with a more alarming picture. He was a large distance away, hunched over, and holding his abdomen. I raised my arms against my head in better hopes of catching my breath and shouted back at him, asking if he was alright. No response. I slowly started to walk back over to him promptly. As I was walking, I watched him throw a hand against his head for a short moment, and then straighten up as he coughed.

“Marc?” I shouted as I hurried over to him. He waved his hand in my general direction, and coughed hard into his hand. I paused, unable to bring myself to move anymore. What I saw come out from his hand was blood. He continued to cough for a moment, more blood dripping into his fancy shirt. I felt my lip quiver a bit, unable to make my tongue form words. He gestured for me to go, and turned away, briskly taking his leave. I wasn’t sure what I had done wrong, if anything, but it was alarming.

A first date ruined by a picture.

I slowly trecked towards the direction in which he had vanished, my legs wobbling insecurely underneath my weight, as I stared at the camera, and the picture of Marc Hanson. His arm was propped up on his arched knee, and his eyes were somewhat squinted from the bright afternoon sun. His face seemed agitated, but peaceful nonetheless. I walked carelessly, trying to make sense of the picture and the situation. Once I got home however, my heart started to break a little more than I had thought.

I had forgotten the flowers he got me in the park.