In answer to the daily prompt A Moment in Time: What was the last picture you took? Tell us the story behind it. (No story behind the photo? Make one up, or choose the last picture you took that had one.)
Martha called behind her, obviously breathless. Meghan stopped and turned towards her companion for this trip. Of course, Martha had decided to wear high heels, which looked really nice – and local too – but it wasn’t the ideal type of shoes to visit Paris. The city’s paved avenues and small streets of cobblestones required a certain habit to navigate with stilettos. Meghan had noticed the Parisians did it really well, but Martha struggled.
Meghan wanted to come alone; it was the first time she left home by herself, but her father was clear. Either he came too or she brought a friend with her. Not Stephen. Stephen was persona non grata with her father since they slept together. It had been her choice too but her father wouldn’t hear about it. So she’d asked Martha, her mother’s best friend’s daughter. They had little in common beside their age and their wish to visit Paris.
Meghan had hoped that once in the city they’d be able to part ways and do what they wanted. Meg planned to visit the museums, beat the pavement beyond the touristy areas. Martha intended to have a fashion vacation. Except that the girl spoke no word of French. That meant that they couldn’t separate… or at least that’s what Martha argued. So Meg planned the month entirely and left Martha no choice. It was her trip before university after all.
She’d scheduled hours for Martha to do shopping while she went on to visit other things. This morning they mixed both, spending it at the Galeries Lafayette and Printemps Haussman. They were a paradise for Martha who strolled along the aisles of clothes, perfumes, make-up and high-end jewellery and leather goods. Yet for people who knew, both malls had terraced rooftops with wonderful views of the city.
Meg spent a little fortune on coffee and pastries and took a number of pictures while her friend spent money on dresses and French purses and shoes. To each their own little pleasures. She’d loved the view all the while knowing Stephen would come in the evening for better light and colours. Her plan tonight though was to take photos of the sunset from the Notre-Dame towers.
That was why she walked fast, while Martha struggled to follow in her newly purchased stilettos. She knew from her guide that the last entrance was 45 minutes before closing hour and she wanted to take more than 45 minutes to visit. They still had an half hour to walk.
“Man, you walk too fast for me.”
“Martha. I told you we were going to walk to Notre Dame to visit the towers. Why did you put on the heels?”
“I’ll take the elevator.”
She laughed as she explained that there were no elevators at Notre Dame.
“You NEVER said that.”
“Martha, it’s a church built in the Middle Ages. There were no elevators at that time.”
“I know that. Oh well. You’ll leave me at a café nearby. That’s fine. Or I’ll go inside the church while you do the towers.”
She shrugged. Martha hooked her arm around hers and they resumed their walk when the light turned green for them. They weren’t fast enough for Meg’s taste but having to adapt to Martha’s rhythm had the advantage of giving her enough time to look up and admire the beauty of some of the buildings. They’d just arrived at the bridge behind the cathedral, when she saw her. She froze. She hadn’t seen anything like this in a while. In fact she’d never seen one of these. All of a sudden the towers disappeared from her mind.
The beauty was sitting right next to a café… Meg had to look at the car and it took everything she had not to touch it. Wherever the owner was they were lucky. The towers would be there tomorrow. This might not be.