How will you know which pictures are of me?

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“Can you send me the pictures?”

The woman asked me to take some photos of her at a formal event I shot last Saturday night. And one of the things I knew I would need – and ultimately forgot – were contact cards for this very purpose. I had to admit my goof up to her.

“Yes I can. But I forgot my business cards.”

“Oh I’ll give you one of mine,” she replied.

She had a wonderful name. I quoted it back to her. “Thank you,” I said while raising the card in the air.

“How will you know which pictures are of me? She asked.

Earlier she had arrived at the event in a floor-length sequined white dress that hung over one shoulder; it was cut to follow her shape. She walked and danced with smooth grace. A willing smile blended innocence with charm, and was punctuated by expressive green eyes. In photos with others she smiled even wider while fitting her shape to that of her companion. Her shoulder-length red hair shone with the color of Autumn’s turning leaves. Of all the people at the event, she was by far the most memorable to me. And, to be honest, she was a person who would be hard to forget.

“Are you kidding?” I replied. “You’re beautiful. I’ll know which pictures are you.”

She gave me one more smile and thank you before hitting the dance floor.

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