Pain Killer

5 ~ To be Perfectly Honest, There's a Racoon Inside us all

As soon as my last class finishes, I make my way to the bridge. On the other end, I see Uri coming towards our spot.

"Wait, stop right there!" I call, rushing to pull my camera out of the case and attach a lens from my backpack's side pocket.

Uri freezes in his stance, a curious smile showing as he watches me position my camera and take a few snaps. I admire the way the sun shines on one side of him, brightening his profile and contrasting with the shadowy side nicely. And it's a perfect excuse to capture that smile in the sunlight.

"Why are you so photogenic?" I grumble as he approaches.

"I didn't know you liked photography." Uri ignores my question.

I let it slide, giving a shy nod. "Yeah, I really enjoy it."

"What's your favorite subject for photos?"

"Anything really." I shrug, shuffling through the dozen or so photos I just took. "Whatever I find pretty, I guess."

"Can I see?"

Blinking, my heart skips a beat as I look up at him to see if he's joking. "You wanna see my photos?"

"Yeah, is that so weird?" He smirks. "I'm curious what you find pretty."

"Uh, yeah, okay." I shuffle through my albums, choose my most aestchetic collection, and hand him the camera.

Uri studies them carefully, a look of genuine interest in my work showing in his eyes. "These are amazing," he mumbles, stopping at one I took of Martha as she was applying lipstick. Her face was turned to her reflection in the kitchen window and her hair was gathered into a messy updo which I thought was very becoming. He moves to the next one and smiles. The photo is of a fried egg.

I blush in embarrassment. Why is that in the aesthetic album? "Uh..."

"I like this one."

I can only think to shake my head. "Thanks."

"I bet you could do this for a living." Uri chuckles as he stops on a photo of a pug falling asleep between the railing of this very bridge.

"I don't know, maybe." His comment warms me inside even though I don't really believe him.

"Hmm, one question though," Uri looks up at me. "Where are all the pictures of you?"

"Huh? Photographers don't take selfies." I almost laugh.

"Well, you said you like taking pictures of pretty things." He's completely serious. "Why don't I take a picture of you?" He turns towards me.

I shake my head quickly. "No thanks."

"Just one?"

"No, really, It's okay. I'm not dressed at all for that." I'm not gonna say out loud that I look like total crap today. A picture is the last thing I want to happen.

"Well, you're not wrong. Maybe if you pulled off your stocking cap, you know, looked less homeless and more approachable like you don't do drugs, it might help, you know?"

"I'm gonna pretend you didn't just call me a homeless drug addict." I give a deadpan look down at the flowing river and pull on the frayed sleeves of my hoodie, feeling a little off suddenly with my brown stocking cap and cargo pants. Now that he mentions it, I can't get the image out of my mind.

"I'm not gonna lie, the resemblance is kind of uncanny," Uri points out, making me feel worse.

"Yeah, okay, I get it, I look like the homeless dude that sits by the stop sign on 8th Avenue. But I really don't care."