Red String [h.s] (Completed)

Chapter 1

The young woman walked in the park as she often did in the late morning. It was the middle of June in Vancouver. The sun shone brightly and the day was starting to heat up. She was wearing light blue denim shorts and a white button up. She had on a large hat to block the sun and black boots on her feet. On her back was her bag that carried all her camera equipment. To an outsider she may have looked like a tourist on holiday in the city but she wasn't. She had lived here her whole life. Never really left the area, even for a short period of time.

She pointed her camera at an older couple walking hand in hand in front of her in the park. Their fingertips just barely grasping each other. So delicate but insistent on not letting go. They were probably in their late 70s or early 80s. Both their faces told stories. They had seen things in their lives. Things unique to only them. Both wore wedding rings, worn from time.

The woman did what she always did: she imagined what the lives of the strangers she photographed were like. Had they always lived here in the city or moved here when they were older. She immediately wonders if they had children or grandchildren and then she stops this line of thinking as quickly as she started it. She looks away from them and finds another subject for her next photograph, pushing the thoughts down.

She comes across a man busking. He is young, probably early 20s. He has brown hair and stubble on his face. He is wearing jeans and a plaid button down, untucked. Sitting on a small stool he is playing the guitar. He's not a bad musician and he has garnered quite the little crowd by playing pop cover songs. His guitar case is out in front of him. Passerby's throw coins and small bills in. A timid child walks up and places in some coins and he smiles at her as he continues to play. She smiles back and then runs back to hide behind her parents shyly. The photographer, her name is Amy, takes the camera away from her face and stares at the young girl. She looks down and shakes her head, as if she is trying to shake a thought out of her brain. She tucks her camera away and starts the walk home.

She unlocks the door to her apartment and throws the keys on the console table. Hanging her jacket up, she walks into the kitchen with her head down, looking at the mail.

"Hey babe!"

The greeting startles her and she drops the mail on the ground.

"Holy shit!"

"Sorry! Sorry! I thought you heard me."

Her hand is clenched to her chest and she can feel her heart racing.

"You scared me! I thought you'd be at work!"

"I'm leaving in a second. I wanted to see you before I left."

She smiles at the man and leans over and kisses him on the cheek.

"How are you feeling?" he asks.

She hesitates, pulling away from him. She doesn't want to talk about this. He knows that she doesn't. She resents the fact that he brought it up. Then, she feels guilty for being mad because he is just worried about her. All these emotions flash through her quickly. She tries not to let them show on her face. She turns and looks up at him, giving him the warmest smile she can manage.