Old Souls

        “What happened?” He asked.         She sighed again. “Remember that contest I told you about? The one where I was a finalist?”         “Yes.”         “I got the results this morning by email. I didn’t win. In fact, there were five finalists and I came in dead last.”         Her arm tightened around his waist and this time he did stroke her soft hair. “I’m sorry, Stella.”         “I suck, Ford.”         “You don’t.”         “I do,” she insisted. “Dead last, remember?”         “You made it to the top five out of thousands of entries. I’d say that’s pretty damn good,” he said.         “I really wanted to win.”         “I know you did. I’m sorry.”         “Thanks. It’s just – I love taking photos and I really want to make a career out of it. I’ve been taking pictures since I was a teenager and I’ve taken dozens of photography courses. I have a website, I hand out business cards like some crazy person and I still can’t get a single paying client. I feel like maybe I should just give