( take your picture ) ...steph

[CLAY HARPER MILLER]

CLAYHARPERMILLER

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Clay had just arrived in town a few days ago. He had been hanging with his sister ever since. He wasn't one for making heavy connections with a location simply because he moved around so often. He followed wherever his photography led him. It helped that he co-owned his own gallery back in New York, and people paid big bucks for his pictures of the world. He liked inspiring emotions with his work, and he loved making money off his passion. It was a good job, and he was glad he had dropped out of business school after one year. He knew everything he'd need to know to own his own gallery, and since his partner ended up finishing business school, she took care of all the number crunching anyway. They were ahead of the game. So, that meant he could go out and pretty much shoot whatever he wanted without worrying.

On this particular day he found himself in the lobby of the local Bed and Breakfast. He had been taking pictures around town. He wasn't using his fanciest camera, but it was the best camera he had that he could tote around town with little effort. He liked being able to move from place to place quickly. That was why he was apprehensive about coming home. He loved his parents and his sister, but he didn't want to get stuck here again. He wanted to go explore the world more and more. He wanted to see everything there was to see, and he wanted to catalogue it in his gallery so everyone else could see everything he'd seen. He wanted to travel to the heart of Africa, or maybe the smallest town in Romania. As long as he didn't get eaten by vampires, that was his next stop.

He had always been curious about people and what they did. He had been curious about cultural differences, and geographical differences. Now, he could take a picture of everything, and someday he could look back with fresh memories of the exact moment he took that picture. That's what he wanted. So, he never took a picture just for the sake of taking a picture. There had to be a memory or meaning behind it.

He looked up from his camera and saw her. She was standing across the lobby. She was one of the most beautiful people he'd ever seen. He'd seen a lot of people. She also looked vaguely familiar. He lifted his camera and clicked pictures of the woman. He knew there would be a memory behind the pictures eventually. He just had to figure out a way to talk to her. He swallowed and took a couple more pictures. Even if they never did speak, he would definitely remember her forever.

[STEPHANIE ELLIOT SCHMIDT]

Steph leaned against the lobby wall, enjoying the sunshine and the proximity to people. She was going stir crazy stuck in her room all alone. It reminded her all to much of the hospital room she'd fought so hard to escape. But the town still wasn't familiar enough to go traipsing around blind. With her luck she'd get lost or run over or worse. The sudden sound of a camera pulled her attention from the window to a man across the way. He was handsome, no doubt about it but there was also something else. Something nagging beneath the surface that said she should know him. But above everything else an irritation that he took her picture with out her permission.

Her eyes rolled up in her head before she could stop them. A quirk she tried to control with little avail, for some reasons the rolls always came in threes. Whether it was turrets or a habitual thing was up for debate. So far turrets was winning only because it was marginally better. The wheels of her mind were still stuck on neutral. Unable to move forward, with out moving back. And the past was locked in a secure vault that she'd yet to find the combination for. So moving backwards out of the question as well leaving her in one constant tick tock motion. For now she'd have to leave concentrate on the opportunity in front of her. Or rather the man who seemed to be looking at her curiously now. As if he too felt the connection.

She bit her lip and walked over. Her eyes focused forward not on anything in particular even though her target was clear. Casually she leaned backwards next to him looking down at his camera. As if that were the only thing that interested her. Not being one to consider tact she reached out one hand to grasp the offending piece of machinery. "Isn't this one of those department store knock offs, the pictures any good?" She asked in genuine curiosity. In the movies no matter the quality camera it always fucked up the pictures. She was eager to know how true the movies really were.

Her face was dangerously close to his while she spoke. If he couldn't feel her breath on his cheek it would be a miracle. And she found she liked that idea. The idea of closeness. Which was short lived because her survival instincts kicked in causing her to pull back abruptly. She didn't know this man regardless of the draw he had on her, and she handed his camera back. "Do you always take pictures of people with out their permission... one could say its rude." She said lamely as if it excused her grabby behavior.

[CLAY HARPER MILLER]

CLAYHARPERMILLER

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Clay had been all around town all day. He had taken pictures of everything that he thought would inspire him or maybe even inspire someone else. He just wanted to get people to enjoy his work, and understand how beautiful this place was. He was even contemplating opening an art gallery in the small town. It would bring in more tourists, and fans of his work. Plus, it would inspire the young artists of the area to keep working. He could show art and photography. He knew there was a pretty nice program at the local college for Photography. Maybe he could inspire the students to continue pursuing a career in what they loved. It had taken him years but he was finally where he wanted to be in life.

He knew he'd seen her somewhere. As recognition filled his face concern did also. He saw her eyes roll back in her head and he wanted to get up and help her, but she didn't look like it was something that she needed help with. She almost seemed to shrug it off. He watched her curiously now, remembering that little blonde girl from the last time he'd been here. The girl that hung around with him and his friends, but was still too young to consider as more than a nuisance. She had certainly grown up. He couldn't quite remember her name though. It was bugging him. He would just have to ask her, because he had the feeling she would come over to him. She didn't seem to happy about the camera and him taking the pictures behind it.

He noticed her walking over toward him, even though she wasn't looking at him. He hoped this was a good sign and she wasn't about to kick his ass. At least if she did kick his ass, he wouldn't ever forget her and the pictures would have some meaning behind them. In a matter of seconds she'd stolen his camera from his hands as he was looking through the pictures. He looked up at her horrified. He grabbed it back from her and put the strap around his neck so she couldn't grab it again. He was oddly protective of his camera's. "Actually, it's a 5000 dollar piece of equipment and it takes the best pictures i've ever seen." He said and looked down at it. It was his favorite camera, but it was also extremely invaluable to him. His sister had bought it for him. Well, his sister and his parents had both chipped in to buy him this amazing camera when he barely had enough money to afford a disposable. They'd always stood behind his dream. That was why he vowed to always stand behind theirs. "Of course, the pictures are only ever as good as the things in them. So, judging by the subject matter of these pictures, they'll be beautiful." He said, trying to be suave and flirty. He wasn't doing the best job, but hopefully she wouldn't think he was a complete loser.

He looked at her with a pained expression. "I don't just take pictures of people, i take pictures of memories. If i hadn't taken that picture would you have ever approached me?" He asked, challenging her. He was awkwardly aware of how close she was to him, and he fought the urge to reach out and touch her. She was, after all, extremely gorgeous and he was just some creepy photographer. "So, now that I've met you, when i look back at these pictures, you'll be more than just a pretty face." He said, speaking the truth. He did vaguely remember her from once upon a time ago, but it was time to make new memories with people. He'd already filled up an entire memory chip with his sister, his parents, and his old friends. The pictures reminded him of why he loved this place, but they also reminded him of why he'd left in the first place.

[STEPHANIE ELLIOT SCHMIDT]

Stephanie looked at the man before her quizzically as he spoke. Something about his velvet smooth voice was triggering something. Something she didn't want to lose. Her hand moved methodically toward the rough stubble on his face, it felt nice under hand. Not familiar though. As if she'd known him from a time when the beard had not yet formed. Childhood friends maybe. Or rather she was the child... a nuisance. Something about the thought had her pulling back, showing some sign of weakness. A jolt of pain struck her normally stone firm features and she bit her lip slightly. "I'd like to think that I would have... there's something about you," She whispered her hand going up to her mouth to hush the emotions being betrayed.

He said he made memories. What a lucky guy to be able to create things that she was trying so hard to grasp. It almost hurt. Okay it really hurt. But maybe if she hung around him long enough some of that magically ability would rub off on her. If she were lucky. She was caught up in jealousy her face pinched. He had mounds of memories preserved for all time that didn't require the holster of the human brain. The gelatinous ooze contained in the human skull was so easily jostled, changed, or broken. To have the confidence that the important things were backed up on a mechanical brain. Somehow it had to put a person at ease. Though the pictures had done little for her. The pictures of early birthdays. Christmas mornings. And other such events where she was small enough where she wouldn't have remembered any way did nothing. Leave it to normal functioning humanoid parental units to consider the milestones from pre-k to be the most important things.

Right now though. Instead of the emptiness she felt she would gladly accept those memories just to say she had something to grasp onto. Something of her past that she did exist before that awful night. All those hands grabbing at her painfully. Pulling at her clothing. Popping buttons and tearing at seams. The feeling of her teeth connecting with her bottom lip, and the taste of the blood. Her hair being jolted painfully from her head at the roots. All in the name of a good time. She could remember her voice being hoarse and her throat raw from screaming. All this going on in the upper level of a club, with numerous other club people dancing below, none would lend a hand. Their bodies pressed against her filling every available hole. Often all at once. They'd taken their fill even after she'd lost consciousness.

She would wake up in a hospital room, disoriented and sore. Tubes connected to her wrists, and machines monitoring her heart rate and breathing. About then the beeping was getting annoying as her heart rate sped out of control. She would have wet the bed if not for the catheter.

That concluded any important memories of her past. A fact that she kept to herself. Partially because it hurt to think about it. And partially because it was none of anyone else's damn business. It wasn't as if she could prosecute with her memory being so disputable. The concussion she'd sustained wouldn't have helped that either.

She realized she'd been staring. Only when her ears picked up the fact that he thought she was pretty. A light blush tinged her cheeks from the surprise. No one had called her a pretty face. Not once since she'd come back home. She'd seen a few men appraising her body. That she wasn't exactly comfortable with but she understood. After all she'd been wanted like that once. Even if it was in the wrong context she could wrap her mind around it. Her face on the other hand was never something they paid much attention to. "You think I'm pretty?" She replied lamely. Though it was all she could think of at the time. It was odd. Her mouth which had been fine a minute ago was now going dry.

Her eyes met his. "I'm Stephanie by the way.... I think its only fair I give you a name since I was a little grabby before with the goods," Her confidence was back. At almost cocky levels now. She'd pushed her fear and insecurities back down deep. Where it could hurt her in private. "Have we met before you seem so familiar."

[CLAY HARPER MILLER]

CLAYHARPERMILLER

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He didn’t move. He didn’t speak. He definitely tried to breath as little as possible. She was touching him, and it felt oddly enough, right. She reminded him of someone. Once upon a time, there had been a girl who’d looked just like her, except she didn’t have the same glint in her eyes. She also didn’t smell the same. She didn’t speak the same. She didn’t walk the same, or breath the same, but she was the same. It was another time, and another life, but it was still this time and life. It was like she was someone, but his brain yelled at him to let her figure it out, and not ruin the surprise for her. So, he sat there, and let her run her fingers over his face. He was in a trance as he watched her with a hunger low in his belly.

He went to speak, but he could see that something was going on with her. She was different now than she’d been a moment before. He instinctively put his arms on her shoulders, steadying her in case she decided to collapse on him. She didn’t even seem to be looking at him anymore. It was like she was momentarily lost. There wasn’t much else he could do except wait for her to come back to him, and focus on the here and now. He didn’t mind waiting. He’d done it for others before. He was a relatively patient guy. Besides, maybe she was a crazy person or something. He liked people who had problems, even though he always took it upon himself to fix them. He felt the overwhelming need to support her.

She finally spoke and he smiled. She hadn’t been out of it for that long, and it wasn’t like he minded her staring at him. Even though he knew her mind had been miles away. ”You must know you’re beautiful. I mean, look at you.” He knew he sounded like a weirdo saying something like that. The fact was though, he was being blatantly honest with her. He was usually honest with everyone, and she was no exception. He grinned and dropped his hands from her shoulders where he’d been steadying her. He didn’t want her to get hurt or anything because she decided to faint on him. Of course, he’d be prince charming and catch her or something like that. At least, if this was a movie, that is what would happen.

”It’s nice to meet you Steph… again… I think?” He said it as a question. She seemed familiar to him, and he wanted to know more about her. He wanted to know how he knew her. He smirked when she mentioned her grabbiness. She’d grabbed his camera, which was his life. So, she really had grabbed his goods in a way. Besides, if he ever broke that camera, his business partner would be cutting off his goods. ”I was about to say the same thing, and not in a cheesy pick up line way either.” He said and held his hand out for her to shake. ”I’m Clay Miller.”

[STEPHANIE ELLIOT SCHMIDT]

Life sometimes threw situations at you that were oddly comforting and scary all at the same time. Now was one of those moments for Stephanie. Clay's face was slowly etching itself back into her short term memory, synapses firing causing electricity in her brain, while she yet again attempted to form a connection. His blue eyes bore into hers. They almost matched. Almost. Which is why she couldn't turn away. Staring again. Her mouth formed a light smile.

Her memory began to boot and a glimpse of her past over took her. Like a vision for a fortune teller. A psychic. Only this wasn't the future and she wasn't some gypsie. Stephanie's breathing became labored and her body felt oddly heavy forcing her to slink to the floor on her knees. She could see him clearly now though not as he stood in front of her. More like as he had been when they'd met. It was like a home movie playing on the back of her eyelids. He was shorter, less hairy, but still him and she was well a child. Pigtailed and running after the older boys. It seemed she'd never played well with the girls. Even in her sun dress she had scrapes on her knees and tears in her clothing. He seemed to think of her as an annoyance. As most young boys see the girls.

Then in a flash they were older. Teenage older. She'd had quite the bust but that hadn't appealed to the boys. The guys ignored her obvious female attributes and took her in as one of their own. Acceptance had been a hard thing to get. And now she wanted more. Sexual frustration was coursing through her veins and she could see him smile.

Then just like it had started it left her. She could remember it sure. Which was progress but she wanted the more vivid pictures that she could almost touch. Actually she probably could touch them. If she believed hard enough. No that was stupid. Believing in something didn't make it happen. Life couldn't be that easy.

It was now that she realized that she was on the floor and she made to get up. But the weakness in her body had carried over. She would be lucky if the fatigue wore off at all at this point. Steph settled for looking up at him with a half cocked grin on her face. "I think I remember you... Did you grow up here?"

She was elated. She finally found a connection in a world of dots. One piece of the puzzle was being filled slowly. Agonizingly slow. She could be patient right? Yeah she could until that surge of sexual frustration she felt earlier came back with a flourish and she wanted nothing more than to kiss him. Well more than kiss. But a kiss is always a good place to start, somewhere in the back of her mind she figured that must have been her motto at sometime. Maybe she was a prostitute. Great. What a wonderful ambition. That would be one of those things she let slip through the cracks if she was. Something she could change.