Accidentally Aspen

Table Six

Aspen A.'s P.O.V.

"-and that's the story of how I accidentally smoked weed." Ger finished with perfect timing, seeing as we were directly in front of her pizza parlor now.

I pushed the door open, her arm still linked to mine, and I walked into the cozy shop. "I've heard that story three times already, Ger. I have this feeling your life isn't really as exciting as you make it out to be."

She yanked her arm back, settling it on her waist to mimic one of her signature poses. 'The Snotty Dwarf' pose as I'd like to call it.

"No, the last two were different. The first one was how I accidentally smoked an actual cigarette, and the second one was how I accidentally did crystal meth." She brought two fingers up to my face. "Both totally different things."

I pushed her hands away, pulling myself down on an empty chair before she could rub her filthy claws in my face again. "Alright, I get it. You do drugs now. Maybe our next meeting you'll tell me you're an alcoholic, or worse, you're a criminal. Don't you have anything, I don't know, pleasant, to tell me?"

She settled herself on the empty seat opposite mine and leaned her head on the table. "Ugh, you sound like my father. I don't suppose you would have anything mildly interesting to tell me?"

"Let's see. A small-time magazine hired me to do a few shots for their next issue. If they turn out fine, they might let me stay as a permanent photographer. I figured it was a decent way to make a few bucks while my college issue isn't settled yet." I bragged, leaning back on the chair. Although, I had to restrain myself from putting both hands on my head since I figured it was too much. If I did that, Gertrude might have already sent bread sticks flying at me.

She merely scoffed, rolling her eyes at me. "Just because I decided to take a gap year before college doesn't mean I'm a slacker, you know."

"But I didn't say that you were a slacker, did I?" I smirked. "I was only telling you about the happenings of my life."

She stuck her tongue out at me. "This conversation is stupid. I'm gonna go get your damn pizza."

"Yeah, that's what I thought you said."

Meanwhile, as Ger scampered off to her busy kitchen, I took in the sight of her small business, memorizing all the tiny details. I've been in this place countless times before, but each time, there were always new discoveries which made it seem like my first.

The brick walls were now a shade darker compared to my last visit. It must be the lighting. Ger also hung up new pictures on the wall, depicting different customers 'enjoying' her food. Of course, this photoshoot was made possible by none other than me. Ger couldn't take a picture to save her life. It's either her thumb is covering the lens, or her hands are shaking like crazy.

I chuckled at the thought. Growing up, the guys in our family were always praised for their athletic ability, varying from the field of football to the art of basketball. On the other hand, I was the outcast. My relatives didn't understand the beauty I was so easily mesmerized in that I was always obliged to capture it forever in photographs. They figured it was just a hobby, a passing phase in my life. As my cousins were getting college scholarships for their sports, I was getting medals for inter-school photography contests. Of course, my parents weren't nearly as proud as I hoped they would be, but still, I kept trying.

Then came the time that my parents were too caught up in the thought that my little 'hobby' would overcome my life. They hid all my cameras and all my negatives. I couldn't find them til a week after. That's where I drew the line. I packed my bags and left, settling in the apartment my parents originally bought for my college stay, and I never looked back.