Was I Good Company?

Outside:
It rains.

Inside:
Blurry (streaks, can your eyes follow them?) and she clicks
Capturing (frames, memories) flash of skin
Dappled
She laughs.

Earlier:
"We could leave, you know,"
"Are you sure?"
They run.
(too good, he thinks)

Later:
Colours (streaks)
"Did you get that shot?"
"Did you?"
She tells him more than a story has
Of children running
(have you ever fished like that?)
Of a little girl
Of beaches and shells
Of hot, hot sand
(Weren't we all little, once?)

Even later:
There is a point to this
The beaches, gramophones
The rain
"Tell my story," she asks.
He smiles,
takes a shot of her (memories) flesh
makes the stories real
makes them
his.