Joliette rummaged through her backpack. She was not thinking about how she looked unloading all her personal belongings onto the walkway while people passed. She yanked out books, planners, maps, her little purple pencil bag, and several colored glass jars she brought to collect pasalubong for her little brother, Jean. She was frustrated and edgy, having over-layered her clothes for the tour. Even the light red sweater-t and worn wool beanie were becoming a nuisance. She snatched off her hat and let her auburn hair pour over shoulders in a solid shimmering mass of bottle red. She released a sigh of relief and stopped for a second to feel the crisp wind whip her hair against her cheeks and lips, her eyes squinting against the naked sun. She raised her hand to her brow and absentmindedly stepped away from the ledge of the bridge. Forgetting for a moment that her bag was underfoot, her left foot slipped into the looped strap. She was looking out past the mountains, considering a frame of the morning sun in the east. Something she could accomplish the next day if she could get out early enough to catch the first bus. Not likely.
And then, she was stumbling back. On the way down, all Joliette could think was “camera!” She glanced quickly to the left of her snagged foot and landed heavily on her behind with more joy than pain when she realized her camera was not in her hand. Her palms caught on jagged pebbles and her open backpack jerked backwards with her, tossing out a few items. Abject humiliation.
Joliette glanced around, noticing that more than one person was chuckling and walking past her with sudden urgency. She spat under her breath. ”Connards.” While brushing away the imbedded flecks of dirt from her hands, she felt a hand seize her upper arm and pull. She dropped her weight and did not allow herself to be picked up. She only frowned turned her head up to her uninvited rescuer. Turning her head back down, she grumbled unintelligibly. Persistent, the hand did not let go. “Je suis bien!” The blurt was unexpectedly loud. The grip loosened and Joliette pulled herself up off the ground stubbornly.
An unassuming couple looked at her cautiously. American, undoubtedly. The two looked at each other and shrugged, giggling awkwardly. Both were wearing matching T-shirts and black visors. Couple of dorks from the States. The lanky gentlemen removed his sunglasses.
“Um, sorry. We don’t speak…whatever you’re speaking.” Joliette squinted and pursed her lips, “I said I’m fine. Thank you.” The young man gave his companion a raised eyebrow.
