— Through The Lens
Vi had always seen the world in fragments. Not like most people, who took in the big picture, but in small details that others often overlooked: the imperfect crack in a wall, the distorted reflection in a dirty window, the way the late afternoon light stretched across the pavement before fading. To her, the world was a puzzle made up of fleeting moments, and her camera was the only way to preserve them before they vanished.
She wasn’t particularly social. Not because she didn’t like people, but because she often found them overwhelming in their need to be understood or validated. Vi preferred to observe from a distance, capturing the essence of someone in a single gesture, a distracted glance, a smile meant for no one but themselves. Emotions were easier to process through a lens, framed, contained. It was her way of staying connected without feeling trapped.
Her room in the university dorm was filled with photographs. Some framed, others tacked up messily on the walls. People she would likely never see again, landscapes that no longer existed, ordinary objects turned into art by a play of shadow and light. Her life was defined by these fragments, but sometimes, when she lay in bed surrounded by static images, she wondered if that was enough. If looking at the world from behind a camera was protecting her… or keeping her from something more real.
That afternoon, she didn’t have a specific destination. Just her camera hanging from her neck, a notebook in her backpack, and the uncontrollable urge to find something worth capturing. She wandered through campus, letting the noise of conversations and the crunch of leaves beneath her boots blend into the background. It was a soft autumn afternoon, with the sun casting a golden light that made everything seem to have a sharper edge.
She passed the art building and then skirted the central garden, where some students were sprawled on the grass, reading or talking quietly. It was there that her eyes found her.
Sitting alone on a weathered wooden bench, under the dappled shade of a tree, was her. She wasn’t doing anything extraordinary. Just flipping through a notebook with a serene expression, completely detached from the bustling campus around her. Eve wasn’t the type of person who would immediately stand out, but for Vi, it was as if the rest of the world faded into the background. There was something in the way the light fell across her face, in the stillness of her posture, that made her stand apart, even without trying.
Vi instinctively raised the camera, adjusting the focus with precision. Through the viewfinder, Eve seemed even more intriguing, as if the lens revealed something the naked eye couldn’t see. Just as she was about to press the shutter, Eve lifted her gaze. Her eyes, a color somewhere between gray and amber, met Vi’s through the glass.
Vi lowered the camera immediately, feeling an unexpected warmth rise in her neck. She wasn’t sure if it was embarrassment or something harder to define.
She decided to approach, driven by an impulse she couldn’t contain.
“Would you mind if I take your picture?” she asked, her voice a little quieter than usual.
Eve blinked, as if the question had pulled her out of a distant thought. She closed the notebook slowly, her long, delicate fingers resting on the cover. She didn’t seem annoyed, just surprised.
“Why?” Her voice was soft, calm, with an honest curiosity that didn’t sound like judgment.
Vi paused for a second, searching for an answer that didn’t sound forced. Why? Because you’re like a flash of light amidst all this noise. Because when I saw you, it felt like time stopped for just a moment.
“There’s something about you I want to capture,” she said finally, aware of how silly it might sound.
To her surprise, Eve smiled, but not with sarcasm or mockery. It was a small, discreet smile, as if she were holding a secret she wasn’t sure she wanted to share.
“That sounds pretty intense for just a photo,” she replied lightly, tilting her head slightly, as if assessing the sincerity in Vi’s words.
Vi laughed nervously.
“Yeah, I guess so.”
There was a brief silence, oddly comfortable. Eve looked down at her notebook, then met her gaze again.
“I don’t mind, but... I’m not really photogenic.”
Vi furrowed her brow, more by instinct than disagreement.
“I don’t think photogenic has anything to do with what I’m looking for. It’s just... how the light finds you. How you fit into the space.”
Eve raised an eyebrow, amused by the explanation.
“That sounds more like poetry than photography.”
“Sometimes, it’s the same thing,” Vi replied without thinking too much, and as the words left her mouth, she realized they felt truer than she’d expected.
Eve didn’t respond immediately. Then she gave a brief nod.
“Okay.”
Vi blinked, surprised at how easy it had been. She quickly raised her camera again, adjusting the focus. Eve didn’t pose. She just stayed there, sitting, looking at something in the distance, as if Vi weren’t about to capture a piece of her soul.
The click of the shutter sounded softly in the warm afternoon air.
When she finished, she lowered the camera and looked at Eve, who held her gaze with a calm that disarmed her.
“Can I see it?” Eve asked, gesturing to the camera.
Vi hesitated for a second, then turned the screen to show her the image. Eve leaned in slightly, studying it in silence. She didn’t say anything right away, just examined the photo with an unreadable expression. Finally, she smiled again, a small flicker at the corners of her lips.
“It’s not bad,” she said, handing the camera back gently.
“Not bad?” Vi repeated, feigning indignation. “Is that all?”
Eve laughed softly, a brief, sincere laugh.
“It’s fine. It’s... pretty. I guess.”
Vi stored that “I guess” as a small victory.
They didn’t exchange names that day. They didn’t talk about much more. But as Vi walked away, her camera hanging around her neck again, she knew this wouldn’t be the last time she saw Eve.
There was something about her that Vi couldn’t fully capture. And that only made her want to try again.