Yeah, I always loved old photos and capture those moments that seemed too precious to let get go. She shrugged. Bones, really? That’s interesting.
Are you freelance? He nodded again. I thought so in high school. I work with fossils. I’m a paleontologist.
I’m a photographer.
What do you do?
A photographer. He nods. I work with bones.
Kacey nodded softly, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. It was evident he wasn’t very talkative.
So tell me something about you Kacey.
I guess you can say I’m drawing back to grade school. I was the girl with big glasses and braces. Epitome of dorks.
Thank you, Mason. That’s very sweet of you to say. It’s kinda dorky but I’ll take the compliment.
What’s dorky about it?
My father’s. My car is in the shop and I wasn’t going to take the ferrari. She smiled at the man knowing it was quite the tight squeeze. I’m sorry about space thing. No manly man rides in a Fiat unless its dire. So I commend you for your bravery. Pleasure to tell you, Mason.
I see and what’s your name?
Kacey giggled into her hand, looking back at the now glistening asphalt. I thought you’d change your mind and this isn’t my car. She mused with a grin, waiting for him to buckle up. Good to know. What’s your name, Stranger?
Who’s car is it? He felt awkward and if he felt awkward he could imagine how he looked. I’m Mason and thanks.
Well if you’re not going to accept the ride, take my umbrella. I promise it’s basic black so no masculinity obscuring here.
Mason looked around them. It was late and rain seemed about to spill. Fine. He reached out and opened the door. You need to get a new car. He closed the door behind him. I live on 6th avenue.