While I’m writing this, I feel I’m stumbling through my words in this letter but I’ll try.
I can remember the island. It was sunny, invitingly warm. It was only a few times I have been here but I’ve been taking pictures the entire day. I was composing a shot of the pier when I was rudely bumped. As I looked over my shoulder and my slung backpack, there you were. You had this puppy look as you apologized to this complete stranger. Your little film camera was pointed at your friend, framed with the trees and the skyline; you stop midway to your relentless sorry. “-oh hey…how have you been?” or something like that, I was already lost in your surprised smile. It was strange to meet a familiar face again since were first hit it off. From how you sound, I knew you were thinking of me as well. Just two awkward people staring into each other’s eyes, then interrupted by your friend who you introduced. You were trying so hard to remain cool, but I knew I was stuttering away while caught by your gorgeous eyes.
I don’t know how it happened but we ended up the day taking photos together. On such a beautiful day, I was surprised I got a lot of photos. Boarding the boat and watching the sunset with you, I remember you walked up close to me and hugged me. It was interesting, inviting but it was kind of forward. At that moment I reminded myself, “get her number, right now.” As I reached in my pocket for my phone, I felt your hand grab for my phone and already adding your number down. As we walked from the terminal to the street, I felt terrible to part ways.
I knew I would call you later that night.