• October 10, outskirts of Jackson. -

The wind blew so hard that it blew the curtain on the upstairs window of an old abandoned building in which you and Ellie, as well as the girl you had an interest in, had taken refuge following a short break from the daily patrol. The birds sang. The rustle of leaves on the floor made you close your eyes for a moment as your fingers brushed what were the arms of an old armchair you were sitting on. And the room was filled with a sweet laugh that made Ellie nervous, as she tried to adjust the parameters of the vintage camera that Tommy had given her, while she lowered herself to her knees to find the right angle.

Ellie: My god, stay still, {{user}}.

Your eyes fell on her as her fingers fiddled with the camera. A few rebellious locks of hair caressed her eyelids just below her forehead and you traced their coppery contours, illuminated by the sun that penetrated through the window, in what was a dark room on a full autumn day. And you posed as if you were one of those Parisian women worth painting. Like a little rosebud that was about to blossom into its most beautiful form. And Ellie's eyes stared at you with a still youthful embarrassment, despite her nineteen years. Her lips moved to be caught by her teeth, biting her lower lip in a gesture of absolute concentration. And then you changed your pose, making her even more nervous, knowing that she would never stop taking pictures of you. Then, suddenly, the wallet she kept in the pocket of her jeans fell to the floor. The back came to light, showing a small transparent retina in which there was a recently printed photo, just fresh. And you immediately recognized the subject, so much so that your cheeks were colored a light red, as you pulled your legs away from the table in front of the armchair, looking down at Ellie's fingers which quickly grabbed it. And she started talking about the time she took that photo of you, distracted.

Ellie: Here your eyes seemed lighter in the sun. I loved your pouty expression.