90. Eye for Detail

Date Written: July 18, 2019

Date Posted: December 7, 2020

Characters: Veneziano

Summary: An amateur photographer likes looking out the window and taking pictures of a young man walking outside their window.

Notes:


There's a man who sometimes walks by the front of our house. He has hair the color of caramel and cinnamon and his eyes twinkle like late midnight stars. On the days he walks by, he whistles or hums melodies that seem nonsensical to me, yet so wondrous at the same time. His smile, on the best of days, was blindingly bright.

I have never approached him.

I would watch from my balcony at every sunrise and sunset, I had dreams of being a famous photographer one day and when I was younger, I had an affinity for the sun. Ah, but who am I kidding? All Italians love the sun. We crave the bright colors, the warm tones, and the relaxing touch of its rays. It was no wonder that our ancestors made a deity just so that they could worship the sun. In fact, I was pretty sure any Italian would say that they loved the sun, but non more so than I.

More often than not, if he were to appear, he would walk in front of the house during the winter months. It was always in the early morning hours, when the first rays of golden sun began to dance away the hues of dark purples and blues.

He walked with a spry step—probably a sign of a good day.

On even better days, I would catch him dancing, as if he had an invisible partner latched onto his arm.

.

.

.

"You sometimes come by here." I said. I shyly gave him a sheaf of photos that I developed. An old obsolete technique to be sure, but one that calmed me. "And I noticed something odd…"

This was the moment that I've been waiting for. His eyes seemed to grow wide, a hint of something old passed through his eyes. For a moment, I was humbled, my anxiety returning full force. A voice in my head told me that I should go. That I should abandon this line of questioning. However, that ancient something that flushed in his eyes dissipated with a few blinks. A look of understanding dawned upon him.

"And what did you notice, cara mia?"

His voice was honey smooth. It warmed my insides and soothed my palpitating heart. I thought of my mother, who used to hold me tightly in her arms as thunder boomed overhead. I thought of my father, who would swing me around and throw me into the air, only to catch me again. Then, I thought of the stranger and his bright, how I didn't know him, but I did know that he was important.

With shaking hands, I gave him the photos. His fingers, steady unlike my own, flipped through photos. As he searched, I noticed that he had critical eyes on the photos. It seemed, as if—

"You have a good eye for background and lighting. What's even better is that you manage to capture me in candid motion. He looked at me. "Are you planning on doing this professionally."

I was gobsmacked. Of all the things he could focus on—!

He gave me the photos and smiled that serene smile I had only seen in photos. The sight in real life made me feel like I was the most loved person in the world.