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Picture Perfect

Author: Stormy
Rating: Safe
Status: Complete
Series: None
Preceding: None
Succeeding: None


Okay so since I suck immensely at writing romance and touchy feely stuff, I thought that I might as well practice with a really short one-shot.


I sat on one of my old patterned blankets, in the middle of Winston Park. The grass prickled gently at my hands, as I rested my palms on it. Trees towered over my head, seeming like they would touch the sky, their leaves dangling off of their thin branches. Shadows of these trees were cast over the ground, as the sun shone brightly that day.

Winston Park always had been a special place for me. I've been coming ever since I was little, to climb the trees and do cartwheels through the grass. Friends usually accompanied me in these activities.

One was sitting with me today. Her name was Sabrina. She had fire red hair, and she was talking a mile a minute, laughing like she hadn't a care in the world. I laughed too, and nodded as well, yet my mind was far away.

This was when I noticed a boy, wearing baggy jeans and a ballcap, holding up a camera to a tree. It was an old Polaroid camera, surprisingly. I had only seen them in movies, not in real life. I wondered why he didn't have a digital camera.

Then again he seemed a bit quirky, as he laid on his back to get a picture of the beautiful blue sky. I would've gone up to talk to him, but I was still hanging out with Sabrina, and I couldn't just ditch her. Besides, I wouldn't know what to say. Hi, what's your name? I noticed you liked taking pictures? I was such an awkward person.

All of a sudden, he turned to look at me. He smiled. I looked away, blushing. He probably thinks I'm such a weirdo for staring at him in the park.

It was almost time for my soccer practice, so I got up to leave, leaving Sabrina with the blanket and a few popsicles to finish. I was walking away, when I felt someone slip something in my pocket. I turned, to see the back of the retreating boy, holding up his camera.

Curious, I pulled the slip of paper out of my pocket.

It was a picture, still a fuzzy gray, yet to reveal the image. I waved it around a bit, until the photo revealed itself.

It was a picture of me, laughing, tucking a strand of my brown hair behind my ear. I blushed again, and flipped over the photo.

On the back, written in Sharpie, was his number.

I smiled, and started walking out of the park.

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