Click. Click, click click.
I pull the camera away from my eye and study the image. It's of a woman having a picnic with her kids. The first day the weather has reached above 70, and it seems everyone is taking advantage.
Another click of the camera, an extra photo just to be safe. I kick off the ground and resume riding my bike down the predetermined path. Reaching the top of the hill, I stop to get another photo. Satisfied I tuck my camera into my bag and begin my trek across town.
A few moments later, and I'm heading toward my favorite part of town. A small wooded area. There's a path that I bike through to clear my head. A quick turn and I'm gliding past the baseball fields. In a few hours they'll be filled with little league-ers playing.
Before long my tires find the familiar gravel path. A post marks the start of the 3.6 mile loop. A sharp turn to the left and I'm in my own world.
My thoughts begin to clear as I cross the first mile marker. .20 miles.
After a mile, I draw close to my favorite spot. It's a steep climb up a small hill, but at the top you can see all of the small forest preserve. There's also a small lake outlined by a field of tall grass. I take a deep breath and reach for my camera. Click.
I don't need to check the photo, I know it's perfect.
I set my bike down and pull out a sketch pad. A small family of ducks are waddling past me. It only takes a few moments to put their image to paper. I move the drawing away from me, studying it like a chess player contemplating his next move. My small handwriting, unusually neat for the moment, spells out the date and location.
As the ducks swim off, click, my camera snaps a photo. Satisfied with my artistic moment, I remount the bike and set off down the rest of the trail.
It's near the end that gets the most exciting. Within the last half mile or so is a small pond that a lot of people in the town like to fish at. Today was no exception.
That's when I see him. I slow down to a stop on the opposite side of the pond. Click. Instinct tells me it's creepy to take photos, but I can't help it. Everything just feels right, the composition of the trees, the way the light is filtered through the blooming branches, even the ducks swimming across the lake.
He looks my way, and instantly I know he sees me staring. Quickly I continue my ride, only to be detoured by a family of hissing geese.
I'm thrown down a path I'm not familar with. The path isn't worn as well in this area as the one I'm used to. A low branch nearly beheads me as I turn a sharp corner. I halt to a stop as I realize where this path is taking me.
I'm quickly approaching the fishing area. Nerves surge through me. I don't know why I feel so nervous, I've seen this guy numerous times around town. Something's different about this time. Maybe it's the fact I was just caught taking photos, or it could be the noise of my bike disrupting the rest of the people fishing.
I'm too caught up in my own thoughts to notice the tree root sticking out of the ground. Fortunately for the tree root, it stayed in one place. I however swerved into the bushes landing on the hard packed dirt.
Slowly standing I start brushing off all the dirt, surveying the damage the ground did to my knee.
"Are you all right."
My eyes are trained on my knee, attempting to determine if the blood loss is equal to the amount of pain. "Yeah, just must have ran something over. I'll be fine," a hand is outstretched in my direction.
I look up to see the hand belongs to none other, than the guy I was just distracted by. I accept his hand, a shock going through my finger tips. I wince as weight gets put on my knee.
"That doesn't look so good." I'm trying to hide my embarrassment and look strong, "it's not that bad. Although I may need to hobble home." A weak chuckle leaves my lips. A terrible attempt of trying to make light of an embarrassing situation.
We make eye contact. The kind that gets held a little too long. I'm the first to look away, "I should probably head on my way." I gather my bag and my bike and begin to walk away. I don't get far before I hear him calling after me.
"Wait," he's jogging a little to catch up. He reaches for my shoulder to turn me around. Another jolt of electricity passes between us. He opens his mouth, but it's no longer his voice I hear.
"Finished." Confusion washes over me. "What did you want to do before dinner?" I'm pulled back to reality as I open my eyes and realize the voice belongs to my friend.
She closes her laptop and turns to face me. The sun is still beating down on me as I lay next to her on the grass. A sigh escapes me as I sit up and the daydream begins to fade, "let's go for a ride."
