Strawberry Fields {h.s}

one

Summer of 1989, Paris

It was a hot afternoon and Harry was worried he would have to pull some French words he barely knew, out of his ass and try to make a coherent sentence so someone could understand him. He was walking up the slightly slanted face of a hill, leading to the strawberry field that lay on top of it, he had spotted it from the nearby road.

He could have sworn that he had gone down that road before, but he had never once, noticed the strawberry field. As he walked, he realized this was just what he needed, some fresh air, the hot summer sun on his back, his sunglasses shielding his face from the sunrays.

He reached the top and marveled at just how big the field actually was. A good acre or two, filled with strawberries to what seemed like no end. There was a little shack that seemed to be the focal point of this place, a few workers scattering around, handing out strawberries to their paying customers. Harry approached the hut slowly, taking a few long strides before he reached the counter, pushing his sunglasses off of the bridge of his nose and onto the top of his head.

"Bonjour, hi." A girl said to him, a sigh of relief when he heard English flow out of her mouth. The girl had her back to him, putting some strawberries into a basket and placing a price tag on it as well. He noticed that her fingers were stained red and pink, from all the strawberries she's been picking and handing out. He smiled to himself, wondering if she was talking to him or someone else. When she looked back, her eyes meeting his, it confirmed his thoughts.

"Uh, hi." Harry said awkwardly, not sure why he felt so nervous under her stare all of a sudden. She smiled at him and finished her basket before placing it off to the side, then coming to stand on the other side of the counter, giving him her full attention. Her eyes were huge, like a dear caught in headlights and he felt as though he could not look away, they were enchanting.

And she felt the same about him, his eyes, so green, like the leaves on the strawberries and his hair glowing in the sunlight, she had never stared at a customer for so long before and she felt like it was almost impossible to break his gaze.

"How can I help you?" She finally said, gaining back her composure and giving him a smile. Harry shook his head and smiled to himself, embarrassed that he had been staring at her.

"I would like some strawberries." Harry said, what else would he be in a strawberry field for? He noticed off to the side that they also sold other products that were strawberry flavored, like jam, gum, lemonade, lip balm, pies and so much more. His mouth watered.

"Freshly picked or from a basket?" She inquired, leaning to her left a bit so he could get a better look at the different sizes of baskets and their price. Harry hesitated and wonder about getting some freshly picked ones, thinking that maybe she could help him and he could look at her for a bit longer.

"Freshly picked please." He smiled, and she handed him a basket. Harry took it and stood there for a moment, wondering if she was going to offer to come or just leave him alone. When she turned around immediately after handing him the basket, he frowned to himself and walked around the shack and into the filed. He admired the red barn that was about a hundred feet away, deep into the field and he wondered what they did in there, maybe it was the bakery, he thought.

Harry walked amongst the strawberries, not really sure what he was doing and he wished that the girl with the big eyes and beautiful smile was helping him. He looked around, watching other people pick their strawberries and he, frankly, had no idea what qualified as a good strawberry to pick.

"Need any help?" It was the voice of the girl from the counter. Harry tried not to smile and turned around and said 'yes'. He noticed how when she talked, she did not have a strong French accent like almost everyone in Paris, or in France for that matter, her English was perfect.