One Week In August

Chapter 1

He looks into the camera display, studying his last shot. The visual was really nice, the plain greyish shrew contrasted with the bright orange of the papaya and the pink of the lush bougainvillea blossoms, looking adorably excited to get such a treat. But he only got one picture of it and the angle was a little bit off, so he probably won't be able to use it. Too bad. He'll have to go and search for a new subject now.

He walks around aimlessly, familiarising himself with the site and snaps a picture of a flowerbed and a fenced-in area filled with different herbs. It's actually a rather nice park as far as parks go, with a lush botanical garden and a conservatory attached to it, and a sprawling lake in the middle that is home to a swan couple. Next to hornbills, they're his favourite birds and he decides to take a moment to set up his tripod and photograph the couple swimming far back on the lake but moving slowly towards him. Their white feathers nicely contrast the dark glassy surface of the water and he manages to also capture the little bridge that's running across the lake, giving the shot a pleasant balance. He's actually quite satisfied with that one.

The hot midday sun is burning his neck though and he can feel his stomach starting to growl, so he decides to pack his equipment, shoulder his camera, and move over to a little seating area at the side of the lake where a vast branching rain tree promises much-needed shelter from the heat. Fortunately, it's a little less busy here and he sits down on one of the low benches close to the water, enjoying the light breeze blowing over it and the rustling of the leaves. When he closes his eyes, he can almost imagine being back in his forest in undisturbed solitude.

He gets out the Gai Tod he bought from one of the food stands earlier and starts nibbling on it when he notices a Common Myna landing on one of the concrete tables, picking at some leftover rice that's scattered over the table, undisturbed by the people all around it. It's a beautiful specimen, its yellow beak glowing bright under the midday sun and its plumage shiny and smooth. It looks interesting like this, surrounded by people and their works of concrete, out of place yet strangely indifferent to it as if it is reclaiming that little spot for itself.

He gets up and takes his camera out again, his lunch forgotten on the bench, puts it up to his eye, adjusting the lens and zooming in, waiting for the perfect moment to capture. The bird tilts its head a little, looking up towards the branches of the tree and he's pressing down on the shutter. But what he captures isn't the Myna and its shiny feathers. Instead, a boy plops down on the table in front of it just as he's taking the shot, hiding it from view. Phupha takes the camera off his eyes angrily, ready to yell at that guy for disturbing his work. But then he looks at him.

And Phupha's world tilts on its axis.

The boy is... beautiful. His hair is a shiny jet black, looking soft and silky and falling into his big dark eyes. His features are gentle, high cheekbones, a straight nose and full rosy lips, his neck long and elegant. He's looking down at his phone through thick lashes and cards his fingers through his hair, seemingly unaware of the world around him as a little smile curls his lips.

He's magnetic, stealing Phupha's breath away along with his ability to think. He's vaguely aware that the bird flies off behind him, but he's mesmerised by something entirely different, unable to take his eyes off him, rooted to the spot. Phupha's fingers are itching to raise his camera again and capture the way he leans his head on his hand nonchalantly. He wants to get closer and study him, count his lashes and the freckles on his face and find out what shade of brown his eyes are, wants them to look into his own to see their depth.

A phone is ringing somewhere, persistent, and obnoxious and he is startled out of his daze when he realises that it's his own ringtone. It's his work phone, too, so he has to answer it and he forces himself to tear his eyes off him. He reluctantly turns around to get it out of his bag and answer it. When he turns back around, the boy is gone. He half feels like he imagined him.