Photograph

He waited in his car, behind tinted windows, hoping to seem inconspicuous. It didn't really help since there weren't many people, but it didn't do much harm to take precautions, did it? Thumb poised over the button, he stared at the sky, growing lighter by the second. His gaze shifted to the woman, sitting on the wall with her back to him.

Turn, he thought.

He had been waiting a while now, minutes, hours, he didn't know. He dare not look at his watch, should the awaited moment pass in the blink of an eye. Only a few knew what it took to capture a moment in reality, and that it could never be matched by a staged shoot. His mind restlessly went back to a month ago, where he had found the woman on the same wall. She had her violin case with her, then. That he had missed her playing or that she was too distraught to bring herself to play, he could not say.

The sky was almost fully lit with the emerging rays of the sun. Soon people would be jogging along the path, some others playing, and a few annoying ones would come close to inspect the lone tripod stand.

Turn now, please.

His whispered thought must have reached her, because at that moment, she turned. Almost reflexively, his finger pushed the button and the shutter silently went off.

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Veler Macanow was wondering what made sunrises and sunsets so alluring. He looked at the girl who still lay in his bed, naked and tangled up in the sheets. His head returned a hammering headache as he tried to remember last night. He gave up almost immediately.

Just then his phone beeped. Groaning, he looked at the screen. Two brief words flashed across it and he swore.

Mikael's exhibition.

He found his clothes on the floor and put them on as fast as he could. He could not miss the exhibition. Mikael would be very disappointed.

Where are my shoes?

He found them in the hall, one beside the vase and another one under the couch. He hurriedly laced them up and proceeded to look for a pen and a piece of paper. He had no time to apologise in person and he avoided confrontations as much as he could.

He scrawled a vague explanation and stuck it on the fridge. It was probably not necessary, the girl was knocked out and would likely not remember anything at all.

Shaking his head, he willed himself to focus on getting to the exhibition. He was too drunk so they must've got a cab to this place. He rushed down the building, hailed another one and was on his way back home.

In exactly forty two minutes, Veler Macanow was at the Xio Gallery. Good, it was still underway. He buttoned up his suit jacket and stepped inside. Huge photographs covered the walls and the lighting was set somewhere between too-bright and too-dim. He spotted one of the sunrise and wondered if that girl had found his note. Just then, his best friend appeared and a smile broke out on his face.

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Mikael Suyoro was a charming man with an easy smile and eyes that looked upon you like they knew you. His black hair was brushed back and it fell in gentle waves around his face. His lean body went well with his tall frame and he walked with courteous grace. But his good looks were not the only reason for his success. He took what he did very seriously. That explained why his exhibitions were so rare —he didn't put anything on the canvas, he put the best, and the best was hard to find.

He looked around the gallery and marvelled at how the little lights could compliment his hard work so well. His eyes fell on the ornate clock that ticked away silently, it's pendulum oscillating. He tapped his foot impatiently and looked at his watch.