Serendipitous

Part 3

Persephone

Flash after flash rebounds against my one open eye as my finger slams down against the shutter of my camera. Taking a break before I set up for the next shot, I rub my tired, aching eyes, completely and utterly drained. With today being the team's first media day, I've been run off my feet taking photos and getting interviews. It's definitely not the worst job to have, but today, my lovely brain decided it was the perfect time to get my weekly migraine, one which has been hanging around since I first got to work. With it nearing four o'clock, I'm more than ready to go home, and sink into a hot, lavender scented bath. 

Adjusting my camera, I squint into the viewfinder and begin to take more photos. I try to compress my dizziness at the players whizz past me, trying my best to capture the best possible photos that I can. 

I finished up with the players headshots, team photos, and personal interviews just over an hour ago, with my job criteria now demanding me to take action shots of their practice. Like I said, not worst job to have, but with my head thudding from behind my eyes, the last thing I feel like doing is watching a group of men race around an ice rink at high speed.

I don't know if it's mild hallucinations or simply my wishing, but before I know it, the guys have finished their training session. I drop my camera, blinking a few times to make sure I'm not dreaming. My line of sight travels from the bustling rink to the large, industrial door that encloses the staircase leading to the admin section of offices, my chest thumping with relief as I see my manager, Valentina walking towards it with haste. Taking a step back from the edge of the rink, I turn my camera off, and replace the lens with its large cap. I let the heavy weight of the device hang off of my neck as I too head towards the stair, a boost of energy going straight to my seemingly swollen brain at the thought of 'home'.

I really am a homebody. If there was only one person in the world that could claim that title, I'm sure I'd be in the running for first prize. In my mind, nothing, absolutely nothing can compare to being in my own home, where I know where things are, and I know how things work. When I can be myself, inside and out, and live exactly how I feel like living. That's why, in college, I always felt a little out of place. Although I loved living with Mel, our room didn't feel like home to me. I had to either go out to the dining hall or actually leave campus to eat a proper meal, and I had to leave my room to use the bathroom. Everything felt so discombobulated and impersonal, the exact opposite of my current home. 

Soon enough, my feet find themselves perched on the topmost stair, and I make a right turn, pushing my way into the large, glass bound office building a few second later. Valentina, who's rifling through a pile of papers looks up, relief flashing over her face as she breathes out deeply.

"I really hate to do this Pers, but do you mind staying back for an hour or so to transfer over some photos? Liz was supposed to, but she had to go and pick her son up from school because her ex husband if off... somewhere," Valentine waves her hands around in the air, picking up a stray piece of paper and shoving it into my hands. "and I would stay, but I have to go to this recital thing my kids are doing . It's just, we're supposed to start working on the articles first thing Monday morning, and I'd hate to run behind schedule, so I thought because I didn't think you probably wouldn't be doing anything, you'd be able to cover it. You'll get payed overtime, so don't worry about being too scared to ask."

Look, I'm not a particularly mathematical person, but even I can work out that my ideologies of a perfect night = crushed. But, through that backhanded compliment (of sorts), I can't exactly just outright refuse the work. I mean, it is sort of my job.

Regardless of my inner loathing of the work ahead of me, I plastered on my best smile, pushing the slowly worsening migraine to the back of my head as I address Valentine.