I read once that in Russia, they usually end the salutation of a letter with an exclamation point. Isn’t that funny? It must always seem like they’re shouting at each other. Or that they’re really surprised to find themselves in touch.

From: [email protected]

Sent: Saturday, June 8, 2013 1:07 PM

To: [email protected]

Subject: not a chance

Or maybe they’re just really happy to be writing to that person…

Like I am: !

From: [email protected]

Sent: Saturday, June 8, 2013 1:11 PM

To: [email protected]

Subject: Re: not a chance

Well, thank you. But that’s not what happy looks like.

From: [email protected]

Sent: Saturday, June 8, 2013 1:12 PM

To: [email protected]

Subject: Re: not a chance

What does it look like, then?

From: [email protected]

Sent: Saturday, June 8, 2013 1:18 PM

To: [email protected]

Subject: what happy looks like

Sunrises over the harbor. Ice cream on a hot day. The sound of the waves down the street. The way my dog curls up next to me on the couch. Evening strolls. Great movies. Thunderstorms. A good cheeseburger. Fridays. Saturdays. Wednesdays, even. Sticking your toes in the water. Pajama pants. Flip-flops. Swimming. Poetry. The absence of smiley faces in an e-mail.

What does it look like to you?

Chapter 1

It was not all that different from the circus, and it came to town in much the same way. Only instead of elephants and giraffes, there were cameras and microphones. Instead of clowns and cages and tightropes, there were production assistants and trailers and yards upon yards of thick cables.

There was a sense of magic in the way it appeared as if from nowhere, cropping up so quickly that even those who had been expecting it were taken by surprise. And as the people of Henley showed up to watch, even the most jaded members of the film crew couldn’t help feeling a slight shiver of anticipation, a low current of electricity that seemed to pulse through the town. They were used to filming in locations like Los Angeles and New York, cities where the locals gave them a wide berth, grumbling about the traffic and the disappearance of parking spots, shaking their heads at the huge lights that snuffed out the darkness. There were places in the world where a movie shoot was nothing more than a nuisance, a bothersome interruption of real life.

But Henley, Maine, was not one of them.

It was June, so the crowds that had gathered to watch the men unload the trucks were fairly large. The size of the town rose and fell like the tides. Through the winter, the full-timers rattled around the empty shops, bundled against the frost coming off the water. But as soon as summer rolled around, the population swelled to four or five times its usual size, a stream of tourists once again filling the gift shops and cottages and B&Bs that lined the coast. Henley was like a great hibernating bear, dozing through the long winters before coming back to life again at the same time each year.

This Is What Happy Looks Like

This Is What Happy Looks Like(3)Author: Jennifer E. Smith

This Is What Happy Looks Like(3)
Author: Jennifer E. Smith