Tangled In Time

Captured Moments

Reluctantly, Blake and I made our way out of the kitchen through the back door, taking the other path that led to the rope swing. The fading light of the afternoon draped long shadows across the garden, the warmth of the sun ebbing into the cooler promise of evening. The earthy scent of freshly turned soil mingled with the faint aroma of blooming flowers, grounding me in the moment despite the unease curling in my stomach.

As we walked, Blake reached for my hand, entwining his fingers with mine. His touch was steady, a quiet reassurance, even as the weight of unspoken thoughts lingered between us. The rhythmic crunch of gravel underfoot was the only sound for a while, punctuating the stillness of the garden.

"What would you like to do with the rest of the day?" Blake's voice broke the silence, his gaze warm and expectant as I hopped onto the swing, the creak of the ropes filling the air.

The weight of our impending separation churned within my stomach. I pushed the thought aside and smiled sneakily. "Stay in your bedroom."

"That can definitely be arranged," he replied, stepping closer as I pushed away from his leg, setting the swing into motion.

Blake gently stilled the swing, his gaze roaming the garden in quiet contemplation before returning to me. The soft hum of distant birds and the rustle of the breeze through the trees filled the air. A soft smile graced his lips as he grasped the ropes, pulling me nearer until I hung suspended in mid-air. Just as I anticipated his kiss, he let go of the swing, and I arched away from him, a breathless laugh escaping as the ropes carried me out of reach.

"I have an idea," he declared suddenly, stepping back from the swaying motion and jogging toward the house.

Minutes stretched by, the gentle breeze stirring the leaves as I waited. The rhythmic sway of the swing beneath me matched the cadence of my thoughts. I traced patterns on the worn wooden seat with my fingers, watching the golden light filter through the branches. Just as I started to wonder if he'd abandoned me entirely, Blake reappeared. There was a mischievous glimmer lighting his eyes. His hands were tucked behind his back, concealing something.

I hoisted myself upright, curiosity piqued. "What have you got?"

With a flourish, Blake revealed an old black camera, its leather strap looped around his fingers. "It's my father's Zeiss Ikon—stubborn thing, but it still works. Thought we'd make use of it."

"You want to take pictures?" I tilted my head, unable to hide my interest.

"Why not?" he said with a shrug. "Something to remember the day by."

He stepped closer and adjusted the swing, the camera resting against his chest. The worn leather casing and polished lens gleamed in the fading sunlight, a piece of history held firmly in his grasp. "Alright, let's start with you. Stay just like that."

I blinked. "Me? On the swing?"

"Perfectly framed," Blake said, a faint smile curving his lips as he raised the camera to his eye. "Hold still."

The soft click of the shutter was followed by a satisfied nod. "Let me see!" I said, hopping off the swing and reaching for the camera.

Blake held it just out of reach, his teasing grin igniting a spark of laughter in me. "Not yet. You'll ruin the magic."

I rolled my eyes, folding my arms as he adjusted the settings.

"Now let's try one together," he said, setting the camera down on a nearby bench and angling it carefully.

He returned to my side, his arm looping easily around my waist. "Smile," he said, leaning slightly closer.

"Is that a requirement?" I asked, arching an eyebrow in mock scepticism.