The shutter clicked as the wind danced through the summer green leaves holding on to the brown lively tree, a breathing tree with a fresh looking "T" cut onto the side.

"A perfect shot!" Amy smiled. Sure, she was standing next to a grave in a secluded clearing in the woods, but the sacrifices for art! She smiled; taking pictures after her art class was so relaxing. Mrs. Winifred Foster-Jackson would be surprised at Amy's interest. Amy met the great-grandmother a few months before she died at Amy's orientation. Mrs. Foster had left her Victorian house to her grandchildren, but they moved to the city, away from this small town.

In the summer, they opened the house to the nearby Springfield University, which would carefully select high school students from all over the country for community service for Tree Gap. For Amy, she taught collage. As for the other three people, James ran a running camp, Tom ran a design course with Amy, and Charlotte worked with little tots doing "arts and crafts," or as Charlotte called it, under appreciated day care. Considering the fact that these four qualified out of the ten who applied is quite funny. The other candidates failed the drug test, had a criminal record, or were antisocial.

Amy had been the first to receive the acceptance letter and helped interview one of the other six candidates; his name was Joe. Joe was tall, lanky, and had enormous glasses.

"So where are you from Joe?"

"Klitzfield, Montana"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Klitzfield, with a "K" in front."

"Oh…So tell me about yourself."

"I like photography… collage… French food… hair… poetry… Poe…"

"Very cool, I like all the above except for hair," Amy laughed. Joe's face did not move. "Ok, just kidding, so how to do feel about working with kids?"

"I think those minions should never be put on this earth; to become adults they should be put in boot camp for the first twelve years of their lives."

The rest of the conversation was shot after he expressed his sadistic hatred for children. Not to mention his lack of interviewing skills made him very unfavorable.

Well, luckily the four were chosen and plus they were friends since middle school, so this set up was perfect. A Will and Grace set up to the max. Amy is to Grace as James is to Will. Tom is to Jack as Charlotte is to Karen. Who would have guessed?

On the second week of June, they packed up and made the journey to Tree Gap. Tom was almost crushed with his overstuffed LV luggage as the four took the train into the city, to the subway, to take another train, to ride a bus, to walk to Tree Gap. Tom justified that they would be there for two and a half months of their lives.

After, they settled in and each claimed a room. In the mornings, James would do his running camp while Amy walked out with her 16 mm camera to get shots of dawn. Tom and Charlotte would be sleeping. The art classes would fluctuate and run until dinner time and they would run errands or go for a jog before dinner.

Three days out of the week, the four would cook together and watch a foreign or indie film in a relaxed environment. Amy made her desserts and chocolates and Tom would make ravioli or pasta from scratch. The other two just cooked what ever they needed. During the movie, they would talk during the most intense parts. Amy would cry at the romantic scenes and at poor directorial skills. Tom would point and laugh at the bad fashion choices. All the while James would hush them and laugh. Charlotte usually fell asleep if there were no guys to her liking on the screen or she would make the most interesting sound effects and commentaries.

It was a perfect setup. They all expressed annoyance at the lack of male stock in the small town, except for the team of lacrosse players staying at the local boarding school for a camp.

A week into this regime, Amy found a journal; a book bundled up and tied with a blue ribbon in her desk. It belonged to Mrs. Foster-Jackson, as the gold lettering inferred. Inside, a letter addressed to "Jesse Tuck" and a letter addressed to "Miss Amy Lee" told Amy to read the journal; this was something Mrs. Foster-Jackson had never asked of anyone. Her relatives did not even know about this. Odd, Amy though, I've only met her three times, although each time was very enjoyable and interesting. Amy obviously told the three about the journal and showed it to them… but none of them were really interested in an old woman's drabble. James saw the potential, but did not ponder too long about it. The story about innocence, adventure, and love moved Amy so much. This was actually the inspiration of her concentration; a series of multimedia about the surreal reality and about timeless love.

But… back to the grave…

After she took the same picture again with her digital, Amy heard a rustle through the trees. She turned to see a guy, late teens holding a motorcycle helmet. Amy raised her camera to catch the surprised confusion on his face.

"What was that for?" he asked. Attractive in a black jacket, were has he been?

"Pardon me, I'm a photographer, my concentration is on human emotion" Amy said as she extended her hand. "My name's Amy." Fibbing about the concentration wasn't that bad.

"Hi" he replied as he shook her hand with an awkward grip.

"This is where you tell me yours, your name," Amy said with a genuine smile. This was cute; he was either dumbfounded by her existence or shocked by her appearance. Both made her want to laugh. She was in an over sized collar shirt and paint spattered jeans. Her hair in the typical Edwardian twist, something she had learned from Mrs. Foster-Jackson.

"Jesse," He replied. "Can I ask how you know Winnie?"

Bizarre! "I met her, a couple of months ago; I'm in the last project she ever launched. It's a community service house."

"Ooh, awkward for me to have asked," Jesse laughed. It was so genuine, crisp but had a maturity beyond his years. Amy noticed that he was much more complex than she thought.

"Haha, no worries. As for yourself?"

"Family friend – I mean our families have known each other for ages."

"Ah, I see." Jesse was a common name right? Right. Plus, Mrs. Foster-Jackson said she never told anyone. Ever. "Well, I know lot has changed over the years, would you like to come into the house for some tea?"

"Tea?"

"I know it sounds old fashioned, but I don't drink coffee." Amy laughed as Jesse's confused look returned.

"I would love to." Jesse flashed a smile. "Here, let me help you." He picked up her tripod for the 16mm and the digital after handing her the cameras. "I'm not very handy with cameras."

"Well, I'll have to teach you sometime," she smiled. It was odd, both Mrs. Foster-Jackson and Jesse made her feel so comfortable. They walked back as Amy checked her cell phone; it was 3:30 pm.