Black Cat Journal

standing alone. catlike. soaking the last rays of a dwindling urban afternoon. hot chai swirling in the cool air. lazy circles of smoke winding into my hair.



i’m reading. an odd book suggested by, the other half- dare i call him that? a good read none-the-less. standing. switching the weight between shiny high heels. i look down at them, my recent purchase, just another loss in the battle against my girly-ness. damn they are cute. sexy even. back to the book.



i juggle between reading, inhaling, closing my eyes, drinking solace flavored tea, and dancing upon my tired but well clad feet.



the glare of the sun makes it harder to read. difficult to concentrate on being invisible. almost impossible to sink into the warm stone behind my back.



finally i get semi-comfortable. the constant tide of my attention is a storm i can weather. with enough patience and practice. i begin to read again. the words leap of the fibrous paper, the inked words speak their meaning, i’m lost in it. only pausing to remember to breathe, to drink, to feed my sin.



i don’t hear him approach. i feel a slight pull of gravity as he nears, his existence is subtle, i am still engrossed in the story of it all. a quiet raspy voice. the lilt at the end informs me it’s a question. an inquiry. i realize this is not part of the world i hold in my hands, i look up.



he is smiling. holding a camera in one hand and a plastic bag containing developed photos in the other. yes? i say, confusion and fear both make my voice light and oddly friendly, approachable, not what i wanted to convey at that moment, but what the hell. sorry, i was wondering if i could take a picture of you.



silence. a smile. confusion. a smile. all dance across my body.



you’re so beautiful, and i wanted to take a photo, i just have to use two more pictures, and you are so beautiful.



silence. a smile. a tremor. uhm, oh-kay, sure… i want to run. hide. who is this man? every possible horror flick races through my mind. but i say sure.



say cheese. he clicks his photo. shows me. and smiles. i admit the picture is cute. the sunlight bounces off all the surfaces of my surroundings, and i am backlit and spotlit by sunshine. my dark hair, eyes, and clothes do well to slim my figure and create a vacuum of light. i think i smiled. i think even though the smile is present, my fear is more noticeable. my confusion and trepidation a cloak wrapped tight around me.



i’ll give you a copy if i see you out here again.



thanks.



what’s your name?



uhm, god do i make up a name or tell the truth. i’m a rabbit. caught between a wolf and a rock. natalie. damn.



i’m not a crazy, i am an amateur photographer, thank you, see you around. he wanders off. holding his camera, his photos, his non-crazy craziness.



i am shaken. but my face breaks out into a smile. i can’t stop giggling. i wander back into work. my laughter escapes the cage of my hands and echoes off the polished stone walls of this corporate jail. well. i think to myself. either i’m beautiful, or these are some damn good shoes.



god bless random acts of photography. you really know how to make a girl smile.