Smoke And Mirrors

•Ten•

When we got inside his apartment. I walk to his room and take off my clothes —by the time I got to the bed I was naked other than underwear. He was still in the kitchen, so I just got under the covers after stealing another one of his flannels from his bleak closet.

I woke up from a gentle shake, a voice echoing in my ears saying: "Time to wake up."

I furrow my brows and shove my face into the pillow, groaning. "I don't wanna."

Jake pushes hair away from my tired face, "Too bad, you have school in an hour."

I lift my heavy eyelids from their still state, look up at him. He was dressed, kneeling on the bed in a red t-shirt with a thin light brown infinity scarf looped around his neck,  blue jeans—His hair slightly greasy.

"Why are you up so early?"

"I just got back from a gig, it was early, a café one. It was pretty cool." He smiles and kisses my forehead, "Get up, I made coffee." He pushes himself off the bed and walks out back into the kitchen/living room portion of his apartment.

I haven't actually heard him play yet.

It's odd, I'm dating a musician yet, I haven't heard him play, not once.
I get up and peer into the kitchen, "Do I have to go to school?"

"Yes darling, you do." He hands me a full, warm mug of coffee.

I smile softly, "I really like that name, darling. It's rather sweet, tender even."

"Like a kiss?"

"Sure, like a kiss." I touch my nose, "Where did the tissue go?"

"When you fell asleep I took it out, I didn't want it to like— stick in there too long." He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear, "How is your nose feeling?"

"Tender. Not like a kiss, like a petty bitch punched me."

He laughs, "I was about to say—" he grabs a travel mug and pours the rest of the pot into it. "I have another gig in 20 minutes so I'm going to head out, alright?"

"Alright," I lean forward a little.

He kisses me, like he said—sweet and tender—Before putting his guitar case on his his back and walking out the door.

I left his house and changed into grey/cream plaid pants that I put an over sized gray sweater on top that was knitted in twisting patterns. I put my hair up in a messy bun and pull out a few of the front pieces making myself looked disheveled—in a cute way.

I grab my phone, shoving it into my pocket then snatch my camera from my bookshelf, putting the strap around my neck. The camera hung low on my sternum as I walked around campus.
I didn't even go to class.
I didn't want to.

I ask some people if I could take pictures of them for a project, even though it wasn't. I would take the pictures while they were in motion, to capture the purest for of the human.
I take pictures of dogs, plants. Then decided to go off campus and I found a wonderful old woman who was sitting alone at a coffee shop. I asked if I could take her picture as she drank coffee; which she gladly agreed to.

After I show her the photos and she laughs, "I haven't looked that beautiful in...well in years."

I smile, "If you are beautiful now, you have always have been."

She smiles, her withered skin wrinkled like the leaves in fall. "What a-a sweet young lady, come sit." She pats the other side of the table with her dainty hand, her voice stammering as she spoke.

I sit in the chair across from her and before I said anything she spoke. "How long have you been taking pictures?"

"Not long, but I love doing it."