The Reporter and The Photographer

I

Tintin

As I walked about the town everyone was talking about the article I had just written. It was about a jeweler who would tell the sellers that they're valuables were worthless, and then he would take them off their hands for free. Not one of the more eventful things I've written about, but it got the job done.

The sky was a dark grey, and it looked like it might rain, perhaps storm. Snowy hates storms, so this will be an eventful night indeed. my street is particularly quiet for this time of day, so it must be the weather. There is but only one truck, and by the looks of it, a moving truck.

"I wonder whose leaving." I asked my faithful companion, Snowy. His name suited him as his coat was a white as snow. He replied with a bark. "We shall see I guess." I told him walking forward. As I neared forward, I noticed the men were loading boxes in. "Oh I forgot about the empty flat across the hall." I said mentally slapping myself for my forgetfulness.

I saw a girl walk out and come pick up a box labeled 'FRAGILE, PHOTOGRAPHY.' She was wearing a dark brown, and rather short dress it was all the way above her knees, a regular brown cardigan, and a black beret. Her hair was lose and curly, and she had the most piercing blue eyes. I think my jaw dropped a little bit.

I decided to stop gawking, and walk in. The door to her flat was opened, I could see boxes piled up on a single couch. The man who was helping her carry the boxes and probably the driver held out his hand. He was expecting to be paid. The girl rolled her eyes and handed him a bill. He tipped his hat and went back down.

Her eyes met mine for a moment and that's when I decided to go over and speak to her. "Hello," I introduced, "I'm Tintin." I thought I heard a small giggle, but it must have been my imagination. "Nice to meet you Tintin. My name is Abigale." She replied. Her accent was foreign, American I believe. "Where are you from?" I asked. "Oh a lot of places, but I'm a transfer from New York City. I got offered a really good job here, so I took it." She told me. "By the looks of the box I saw you carrying I say you were a photographer." I inferred. She nodded proudly. "I'm going to work for the News Paper." She said. "I'm a journalist, there. Perhaps we could work together on a story." I offered. "A journalist? With all those questions and observations I would have thought you were a detective." She snarked and crossed her arms.

"Well, It does seem like that sometimes." I replied nicely. I wasn't going to have bad blood on my part, that happens to many times. I think she notices the tone of my voice was somewhat hurt, and the expression on my face. "I'm sorry. I have extreme jet lag. Perhaps We can try again tomorrow." She told me. "That's all right. I don't much like flying myself either." I told her. "Thank you for the kindness, Mr.Tintin. It was much needed." She said with a sigh. I nodded and headed back to my flat.

Was it just me, or was something off about her. Snowy didn't growl or make a fuss, in fact he was neutral the whole time. Yet the way she snapped, maybe it was just sarcasm... Or maybe it was jet lag. She did just travel across the Atlantic Ocean, and then some. She is very confusing, but that of course is explained by the fact that she's a women. Or maybe there was more to Abigale.