18-04-2019, 11:22 AM
The woman that they'd rushed out of the house and onto a flight for Europe, so they could be by her side after some psycho had stabbed her. She watched the video in horror on TV and worried until Troy called her to tell her what was happening. Knowing how much Denise admired her, Julie had provided occasional text updates since.
Walking through the house, Denise took notice of the photos on the walls and shelves. There was a cute photo collage that Julie had told her was part of a video played at their wedding, showing her and Troy sleeping in each other's arms, starting as babies. One showed them at the age of four, Julie's feet covered with mud that had gotten all over the sheets and blankets, snuggled up to also-four-year-old Troy. Pictures from camping trips where they'd pushed their sleeping bags together, asleep in the back seat of someone's car; sitting up, but still snuggled together. In the center was the last photo from the video: the one that had been taken by Susan on the morning of the wedding day; always with Julie snuggled up to Troy and his arms wrapped around her.
And interspersed amongst the photos of their life together, a second girl who always kept her dark hair cut short. Her clothes weren't as nice as Julie's; until in the teenage photos, where the other girl started wearing Julie's clothes from previous pictures. And as they got older in the photos, there was a change in her smile. The younger version of the dark-haired girl's smile had always been genuine, but there was a dread about her smile. An impression that, whatever happy occasion going on in the photo, the girl knew that any good feelings that she was having right then would end as soon as she left. Only in the photos of her with the old, bearded man in the red smoking jacket, who looked like a Greek version of Santa Claus, did she ever seem to completely drop her guard and "allow" herself happiness.
The smile in the later photos; the ones where Denise suspected the girl was around her own age, told a different story. One where the shadow that loomed over the younger girl's soul seemed to have been conquered. It had left its mark on her forever, but the thing that had marked her was gone and would never return. And the world that she saw now held promise. One that took pride in each picture showing her with yet another college language club trophy. It was in the surprising number of those pictures that Denise thought she looked happiest.
Denise continued her task, looking at the three friends in the picture, and hoping that on the other side of the world, they were all smiling now.
* * *
Walking through the house, Denise took notice of the photos on the walls and shelves. There was a cute photo collage that Julie had told her was part of a video played at their wedding, showing her and Troy sleeping in each other's arms, starting as babies. One showed them at the age of four, Julie's feet covered with mud that had gotten all over the sheets and blankets, snuggled up to also-four-year-old Troy. Pictures from camping trips where they'd pushed their sleeping bags together, asleep in the back seat of someone's car; sitting up, but still snuggled together. In the center was the last photo from the video: the one that had been taken by Susan on the morning of the wedding day; always with Julie snuggled up to Troy and his arms wrapped around her.
And interspersed amongst the photos of their life together, a second girl who always kept her dark hair cut short. Her clothes weren't as nice as Julie's; until in the teenage photos, where the other girl started wearing Julie's clothes from previous pictures. And as they got older in the photos, there was a change in her smile. The younger version of the dark-haired girl's smile had always been genuine, but there was a dread about her smile. An impression that, whatever happy occasion going on in the photo, the girl knew that any good feelings that she was having right then would end as soon as she left. Only in the photos of her with the old, bearded man in the red smoking jacket, who looked like a Greek version of Santa Claus, did she ever seem to completely drop her guard and "allow" herself happiness.
The smile in the later photos; the ones where Denise suspected the girl was around her own age, told a different story. One where the shadow that loomed over the younger girl's soul seemed to have been conquered. It had left its mark on her forever, but the thing that had marked her was gone and would never return. And the world that she saw now held promise. One that took pride in each picture showing her with yet another college language club trophy. It was in the surprising number of those pictures that Denise thought she looked happiest.
Denise continued her task, looking at the three friends in the picture, and hoping that on the other side of the world, they were all smiling now.
* * *
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