The Photographer

The prompt for writers Island was desire. I wrote therefore a story this time with a bit of desire in it.

Elise quickly crossed the road, heading toward her favourite coffee shop after a boring day at the office. It was quite busy, so she had to settle for a stool at a narrow counter by the window.

Staring outside, her eyes caught sight of a man with dark curly hair that brushed his shoulders. He wore a black pullover and blue jeans, a long black coat hanging loosely around him.

Wow, she thought.

A minute later she jerked back, nearly falling off her stool, her heart pounding. The same man she had seen outside was suddenly standing behind her.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Is this place free?” he asked, pointing to the stool beside her.

“Oh yes,” she mumbled.

“I’m Mark,” he said confidently. “I need a coffee.” He turned and raised his hand. “Waiter, one coffee, please.”

Then he looked back at her. “I’m in the city for a photo shoot. Do you know anyone who could show me some interesting old buildings?”

“I’m from here,” Elise said, a little unsure. “I could tell you something about it.”

“Marvellous,” he replied. “I’ll pay you, of course.”

Before she realised it, they were strolling through the old city. Elise felt more lively than usual, telling him everything she knew. She hadn’t felt this excited in a long time.

After an hour they arrived at the big cathedral.

“Do me a favour,” he said. “I need a photo of a man and a woman standing under the arch by the church doors.”

He stopped a passerby and handed him the camera, giving quick instructions. Then he took her hand, and she let him pull her along. He positioned her beneath the arch and moved to the opposite side, leaning casually against it.

“Now look at me as if we were lovers,” he said, his voice warm.

Elise didn’t understand what was happening to her, but suddenly she was lost in his brown eyes. She couldn’t speak. A warm, tingling feeling spread through her stomach, radiating through her body. She felt paralysed by a pulsing desire.

Then she looked down, afraid she might give herself away.

He smiled. “Thank you, dear. That will do for today.” He reached for his wallet and handed her some money.

“Oh no, I won’t accept that,” she said quickly. “It was my pleasure.”

“Then let me invite you to dinner. It’s already getting late.”

She couldn’t refuse and followed him into a romantic restaurant. He left her for a moment to speak with the man behind the bar. A minute later they stepped outside onto the patio of a Mediterranean-style place and sat by the window. Soft music drifted from inside, perfectly matching the atmosphere.

A bottle of wine arrived. As they shared a glass and ordered dinner, they slipped into conversation as if they had known each other for years. She enjoyed his mildly sarcastic sense of humour.

Then he gently took her hands in his.

“I have to leave,” he said.

The same desire returned, now mixed with a strange sense of loss.

As suddenly as he had appeared, he was gone.

In a daze, feeling as though she had just lost someone deeply important, she watched him step into a taxi outside.

Then she noticed a photograph lying on the ground near the door. She picked it up.

It showed a man and a woman standing beneath the same cathedral arch where they had just taken their picture. But this photograph was black and white, worn and creased, its corners folded with age.

It must be a hundred years old, she thought.

She looked again.

For a moment she couldn’t breathe.

It was them.

The woman’s hair was styled differently, but the resemblance was unmistakable.

How could that be?

Confused, Elise stumbled toward her car.