We have to drive fast. We must find a spot fast. The sun is quickly sliding down the sky and will soon be out of sight. We're losing the precious, beautiful golden light too fast. Ah, here we are. We sit on an old picnic table, and joke about it breaking under us. We laugh, and feel cold and cozy at the same time. It's not adreneline, but akin to that.
"Smile" he instructs, but we haven't any need of that instruction. Smiling is what we do best, especially if we're wearing matching shirts.
"Lean in a little" he says. We lean, and toss our best smiles into the blinding sun. My eyes burn. Nine 'clicks' and we're done. Calling our thanks we run back into our car, out of the blustering wind. His wife runs around to our window.
"They turned out gorgeous!" she cries. "I couldn't let you drive away without telling you."
We go out to celebrate a successful photo shoot, and meet a fellow neither of us know very well. He loves that our shirts match.
"Oh yes. We just had a photo shoot. We're models for Abercrombie & Fitch now, you know."
"Good deal - free clothes, new car," he plays along.
The next day we see the pictures. They have turned out gorgeously. The color of the sun on our hair is unbelievable. We look so much alike, and yet our different personalities come through so beautifully.
Dearest Sister and Partner in Musical Crime: Here's to you, and a jolly good third year concert. Thanks for putting up with so much.