At this moment I'm feeling exhausted just thinking about having to prepare for work, as it seems I have a job now. That would mean I have to shower and I'm not saying I don't shower but the fact that it's cold and the temperature makes me tremble as I'm easily affected by, clothes that Sam suggested would be appropriate for a work setting and just the matter of this entire day. But I reflect on the time when I was actively searching for a job. I think the issue is with my leg, it's not moving. "Cari!" I can already identify the loud voice even before reaching upstairs. I grabbed my pillow immediately and buried my face in it with a frustrated sigh. "What are you still doing in bed?"
"I'd prefer to go to sleep rather than respond to that, Laurel."
"You're funny. You've got work with Sam, get up."
"That wasn't a joke."
She snatched my pillow and firmly made me sit up in bed. "Get in the shower quickly and change your clothes."
"I just have to make sense of why you did that."
"Because nothing seems effective with you, Cari. Now move."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Hey, Laurel?" That's a distant yet recognizable voice that's unfamiliar in our home. I glanced at Laurel with a questioning look before quickly getting out of bed. "Is that the person we both think it is?"
"He came here with me and I-"
"You brought him here with you?"
"He's looking for you, Cari-"
"And you didn't mention it? You should have said something, Laurel."
"I was trying to by getting you out of bed and making you change."
"I apologize for interrupting your pointless argument." I saw Sam appear outside my room leaning to the side and acting like he was sorry. My entire body went still at the thought of a guy almost entering my messy bedroom. Is it really just that I'm avoiding work when I only observe what he does or the fact that he's right there and I'm not dressed properly, without any underclothes? "Looks like you guys are done."
"I told you to wait, Sam."
"Why can't I go in? I'm Cari's friend too."
I quickly dashed to the bathroom and locked the door behind me. "You shouldn't be here."
"I didn't mean to-"
"It's just something she's not used to, okay?Come on." It doesn't happen often that a guy shows up and makes me feel so exposed. And it's Sam. He has this strange habit of arriving at the most unexpected times.
I bump into my smudged mirror avoiding my own image because I loathe facing my imperfections, as Laurel would put it. I was finally able to get out of the shower and change with this pitch black top and this jean I just found somewhere in my merge closet all together covered with a coffee-colored coat. I'm unsure if I should apply something to my face, like a powder or whatever it's called these days. I'm obviously not the person to talk to about cosmetics. I recall having this lip rouge Laurel gave me for the event she thought I'd attend, but I ended up leaving the house and ran away.
"Laurel will lose it if I stay here any longer." I muttered to myself and then applied it to my lips without checking first. I took my handbag which only holds my phone and a nearly empty purse and rushed to the living room where I heard voices.
"This is really adorable. How about-Oh hey, Cari. Did you put something in your face? I feel like you did." I think I just caught them looking through our photo albums with Dad. Laurel passed the album to Sam and spoke quietly. "Put it back."
I chose to ignore Laurel and turned my attention on Dad. "It looks like you've met Sam already."
"Yeah. I'm glad he's helping you out."
"Not entirely." I replied without knowing what it meant. The current hush makes the noises from next door stand out vividly. "Right. We better go now before it kills everyone in this room."
"Is that the lipgloss I gave you?"
"You give me a bunch of stuffs I don't even need, Laurel."
"You look great in it."
"I'd prefer if you didn't make a fuss about it."
"I wasn't planning on it, I just think you're pretty." I've often heard that makeup can transform how people see themselves, but I've never felt the need for that kind of transformation. I've noticed that the idea of makeup can sometimes carry an underlying expectation. There seems to be a notion that wearing makeup is a requirement for looking polished or put together.
We've finally reached the location Sam has been raving about, where he plans to take some photos. I wasn't paying much attention to him during the drive, but I was pleased when Laurel got out of the car for her early workout. I don't dislike my friend, she just has a tendency to fill every quiet moment with a conversation. "Are we about to embark on our hiking trip now?"
"Hey, filming in locations like this is actually simpler."
As I stand at the threshold of this serene natural sanctuary, I can't help but be enveloped by a profound sense of peace. The first thing that captures my attention is the gentle rustling of the leaves, carried by the soft breeze that dances through the trees. The sound is soothing, almost like nature's own lullaby. The landscape before me is a tapestry of rich greens and earthy tones. Tall, majestic trees form a natural canopy overhead, their branches swaying gracefully in rhythm with the wind. The ground beneath my feet is soft and slightly uneven, covered with a carpet of fallen leaves and moss. I can imagine the freedom and peace of mind that would come with hitting the road and letting the journey itself become the destination. The anticipation of leaving behind the noise and stress of everyday life is exhilarating. There's no rush, no tight schedules, just the promise of finding beauty and tranquility in unexpected places. "A hand in here, Cari?"
I assisted Sam in transporting his equipment to this ring-shaped wooden table paired with log stools. "Is anyone scheduled to arrive?"
"No, they've requested that I capture high-quality natural scenery for their presentation."
"How did you discover this place?"
"I had my first photo session in this place, it was different when I first arrived here. It used to be just an ordinary al fresco eating spot." He said with a sigh of relief. "It's great to be here again."
"And by the way, I always carry an extra camera with me. You're getting shots as well."
"I don't know-"
"Shoot from any angle you like, come on."
After searching for several minutes, I finally found the camera and it turned out to be an ordinary vintage model nearly identical to my old one. I stored it in a safe place but I can't recall where I put it. After turning it on, I directed my gaze to where it should be and started scanning for something to photograph. I see people sharing laughs with each other from a distance, a family appears to be joyfully playing with their children and it looks like the elderly couple I'm observing is trying to figure out how to take pictures with a mobile phone.
It wasn't just a matter of taking a few quick shots, the expectation was to deliver high-quality images that would meet specific standards and contribute to a significant presentation. However, as I fumbled with the camera settings and struggled to find the right angles, my enthusiasm began to wane. The pressure to perform perfectly while feeling ill-equipped for the job made the experience increasingly stressful. My anxiety was palpable, I worried about whether I was capturing the right moments, whether the images would be sharp enough and whether they would meet the standards expected of me. I made an effort to capture candid shots of people I encountered and any interesting spots in the area, but I lack confidence that I'm getting it right or achieving good results. "There's nothing worth seeing there, Sam."
"That's simply how the job goes, Cari. Do you want me to suggest you stay in the car while I finish up?"
"No."
"Hang on to this while I go get some snacks." He gave me his camera without checking if I was interested in eating or if I wanted anything. He's always managing to leave me bewildered with his actions.
