Beat The Clock.

Jan 21 - Wall

It was the perfect ending to an absolutely horrid week.

On a country road thirty minutes outside of Belfast, Sandra stepped outside of the rental car, feeling the humidity plaster the thin cotton of her shirt against her skin. The weight of her camera strap didn't help either. It was one of the many things she hadn't been prepared for on this trip - the unbearable heat mixed with rain showers whenever the weather had a mood swing. Glancing at the smoke funneling up from the engine, she could see where it might be coming from. Sandra has given up on this being special, and has settled on just surviving.

"Probably overheated. Or the radiator hose," Greg said as he carefully opened up the hood. Calm, controlled, her best friend took charge with absolutely no idea what he was talking about.

"Ya think? Genius deduction, Watson."

"That's English literature, not Irish." He glanced up from the engine he was trying to divine, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. A modern-day Merlin. "You okay?"

The mental screws of her control were popping out one by one. She was surprised she couldn't see them falling out of her ears onto the gravel road. "No, I'm not okay. It's hot as hell. The shower in my room overflowed onto the hotel floor and my bed. The adapter I bought for grand theft money back in the States doesn't work for beans here, which means my hair has been a black fuzz ball for a week now!" Her hands were flying, sending her hat flying into a green field. At the moment she could care less. "And just when I was able to finally find film to match my camera so we could take some pictures, this happens. Leaving me with SEAL boy genius out in the middle of nowhere on our last day here!"

Greg blinked at her for a moment. His impossible blue gaze unmoving as he tried to figure out if the rant was for real or just a momentary nutty. Finally, he pointed to his left. "Your hat is gone."

Sandra threw her hands up in the air, making a sound in the back of her throat between a growl and scream as she walked away. She spotted the straw hat a few feet away, just in front of an old stone wall, in what could only be a rainwater pond. She refused to chase after the hat. It deserved being stuck in the mud. Instead, feeling the frustration leave her shoulders, she walked toward the wall, breathing in the fresh, sweet air.

The stone wall was older had to be a least fifty years old, if not older. As she ran her fingertips of the smooth, cold stones, Sandra couldn't help but think of who was her before her, running their hands over same the wall to memorize each rock. Or the builders who had made a strong foundation that the wall still stood. There was so much history here.

A strong hand gently clasped her shoulder. "Beautiful, no?"

Sandra brushed her fingers over Greg's. "Absolutely. Definitely worth this trip."

Greg pulled the thick red and black strap over her head, and placed the free camera into her waiting palms. "Take a picture. Something I can keep with me when I ship out next."

Sandra took a picture of him acting goofy and one where he was mockingly serious reciting Macbeth. But when he started a conversation with the family that lived on the other side of the wall for generation, everyone shaking hands over the cobblestones, Sandra saw him look over to her with his elated little boy expression. She snapped a picture.

Pulling it up on her digital screen, she could saw it again once more -the old wall, the family, and Greg right in the middle of it - pulling at her heart. "This one is for me when you ship out," Sandra whispered to the Irish breeze, before heading off to greet Greg's new friends.