The Burden
It all happened because Patrick left his less-expensive camera at my house. All I wanted to do was give it back.I arrived at our rendezvous early, keen to relinquish my irritating responsibility (even 'less-expensive' was still expensive to me). I smoked a cigarette and tried not to think about it. But, growing bored and mischievous, I sought distraction and ascended the car-park roof to catch the approaching sunset.
Mesmerized, I watched it: hot and bloody and important. Then I noticed the girl.
Young, poised. Head tilted back as if to give the dying rays easier passage up her nostrils. A tattoo - winding flower stems - ran up her sleeve somewhere interesting. I approached silently, never thinking she wouldn't be happy to see a strange man so high up. So close to the edge.
Hi, I imagined her saying to me.
Hello, I would reply. We are siblings of the sunset, we would acknowledge telepathically. The only ones who understand.
Then I saw she had removed her moccasin shoes. She turned to face me, and I realised what she was doing. She wasn't a child of the sunset, she was a very unhappy woman who had no right to be so unhappy and so beautiful at the same time.
Dumb, childlike, she smiled a soft hello-goodbye. Dumb, childlike, I photographed her smile.
Then she jumped.
_
I met Patrick and his daughters, returning the camera without words. I went home and climbed into bed, frighteningly alive.
How dare you, I dreamed. Damn and fuck you for violating me with such private matters.
I woke late to many messages, all Patrick.
A beautiful shot. Incredible. But. Isn't that the girl? From the papers. Responsibility to the family. My decision.
I smoked a cigarette and tried not to think about it.
