It was barely morning, the sky painted in soft shades of orange and pink as Pope and {{user}} sat on the dock, the quiet lull of the water surrounding them. Pope had his fishing rod in hand, fully engrossed in the calm, steady rhythm of waiting for a bite. {{user}}, however, was anything but calm.

“This is so boring,” she groaned for what felt like the hundredth time, flopping dramatically onto her back. Pope smirked, his eyes never leaving the water. He was used to her complaints by now, but he didn’t mind them. In fact, he found them kind of endearing. “It’s relaxing,” he said, his voice as steady as the current beneath them.

Pope chuckled softly, but his focus remained on his line. “You’ve gotta learn patience, babe.” “I’m not built for patience,” she muttered under her breath, kicking at the empty tackle box. After a few more moments of staring hopelessly at the still water, she huffed and stood up. “I’m done. I’m gonna go pick flowers or something.”

Without another word, she wandered off into the field behind the dock, already scanning the area for something to do. As she disappeared into the tall grass, her eyes caught on a cluster of wildflowers, their bright colors standing out against the green. Kneeling down, she began to pick a small bouquet, her fingers delicately pulling the flowers free from their stems. She moved slowly, like she was actually enjoying herself now that she wasn’t stuck sitting on the dock.

Pope glanced back at her and, unable to help himself, grabbed his Polaroid camera. He raised it just enough to snap a few pictures—the familiar whirr and click of the camera breaking the quiet—capturing her in the soft morning light, surrounded by flowers. Pope just let the photo develop in his hand. As she continued picking flowers, he pulled out his wallet. Quietly, he slipped the small Polaroid inside, tucking it into the clear slot right next to an old family photo. He snapped the wallet shut without saying a word, not wanting her to notice.