#water damage new jersey

[claimcommander]

February 8, 2024

Does Homeowner Insurance Cover Roof Damage? What happens if water enters your shingle roof? If water enters your shingle roof, it can lead to several potential issues: Water Damage: Water entering through the roof can cause damage to the underlying areas of your home, including the attic, ceilings, insulation, and even the walls. Over time, this can weaken the structural integrity of your home…

[rugs-cleaning]

[carpetlinenj]

Experience top-quality carpet water damage repair with Carpet Line in New Jersey. Contact us today! www.carpetline.net 732-666-8934 https://g.page/carpetline?share

[pmmoldpro]

Quick and Reliable Water Damage Restoration Services in New Jersey

P&M Mold Pro specializes in Water Damage Restoration New Jersey. With state-of-the-art equipment and expertise, we swiftly address water damage issues, preventing further harm.

[deadmotelsusa]

Novelty architecture: a type of building in which structures are designed as familiar shapes such as characters, animals, food, clothing items or household objects. Each one is usually kitschy, gaudy, and eye-catching. This style is also known as ‘mimetic,’ ‘programmatic’ or 'duck' architecture.

Leamington, Ontario's big tomato, circa 1961, is a classic example of this type of building. While it served as a tourist information booth for six decades, water damage and mold forced it to close in 2019. For 5 years, it sat deteriorating. In 2024, the Leamington council approved a restoration project, stating that the tomato is “representation of the area’s rich history and culture." The tomato's days are not over yet.

I've included a few more then + now views of novelty architecture: An owl cafe in New Mexico, a sombrero restaurant in South Carolina, a shoe house in Pennsylvania, an elephant in New Jersey, a big orange in Florida and an airplane-gas-station in Tennessee. Each of these buildings are alive, well and open for business. Most, if not all, have had ongoing restoration efforts and have all been lovingly cared for over the years.

[unitedsafetynj-blog]

The Basics of Water Damage Restoration

Wonder what precisely water damage restoration is? At the same time as you know, when your home suffers from water damage, you've got a big mess - and a big job - on your hands. The process of repairing your home to its pre-loss condition subsequent to a flood, overflow, or other water smash up event is known as water damage restoration.

During the Water Damage Restoration in New Jersey, quite a lot of key procedures take place: loss assessment, categorizing water based on the water source's pollution levels, drying and decontaminating the structure and its contents, monitoring the process, and finishing point.

Prior to any restoration job is undertaken, it is first evaluated so that a suitable response is taken. For example, if you were making an allowance for buying and restoring a typical car, you'd want to know exactly what you are dealing with and where to embark on. At what time it comes to water damage, not only must the technicians fully understand the task ahead of them, insurance companies are time and again involved.

Water damages

Not only must a technician for Water Damage Restoration in New Jersey understand what is damaged and what needs to be completed, the damage must be carefully inspected and documented and accurate estimates made. The source of the damage should also be identified so that essential repairs can be made.

Water damage by and large affects not just the immediate area but also the home's contents. Water damage restoration technicians must also deal with furnishings, drapes, carpets, electronics, books, and other contents exaggerated by the water. Some of these contents will be moved before the water gets to them in an attempt to prevent damage, others will call for to be dried, cleaned, and decontaminated, and others still will be damaged to the point where they have got to be discarded.

As a final point, the drying, cleaning, and decontaminating process begins. All through this time, equipment such as blowers, scrubbers, subfloor drying tools, and dehumidifiers are put into place and left for quite a lot of days with the drying process monitored to make sure that the all equipment is placed appropriately and working as it is supposed to be.

Humidity levels, temperatures, and dampness content of exaggerated areas are monitored with additional drying continuing as looked-for. In addition to drying, cleaning, decontaminating, mold inhibitors may be used to put a stop to mold from growing. Deodorizers may also be necessary. Even if the water damage was from water source, contaminants in fitted carpets and the basic fitted carpet pad can fast set in motion a foul odor.

Depending on the amount of the damage, extra repairs may be required. For case in point, if the drywalls and fitted carpet were damaged to the point where they necessitate to be replaced, those repairs will take place once the underlying areas are dry. As a final point, once the home is dried out and restored to its pre-loss outward appearance, the water damage restoration work is complete.

[crestviewpas-blog]

Insurance Adjuster Water Damage - To file a water damage insurance claim in NY or NJ, contact a qualified public adjuster. By maximising your insurance claim, Crestview can assist you. There is a good probability that you have personally experienced the impacts of water damage, or that you know someone who has, whether you live in Texas, New Jersey, New York, Connecticut, Pennsylvania, or any other state. Get an evaluation without cost!

[thebibliosphere]

Joy I have to ask - what temperature do you think it is inside Wayne Manor?

Is it essentially outside temperature except where the fireplaces are? Does Alfred have a one man war against climate change? Is that why Bruce spends so much time in the basement?

Depending on which timeline you follow, Wayne Manor was built in the late 1800s. Having worked in giant historical homes, I'm telling you now it's a fucking pain in the ass to update the heating systems in those buildings. I know we've got comic book logic to contend with, and they've got massive generators in the basement to keep the cave running (sometimes it's turbines powered by the water flowing through the caves), but I also think it's plausible that to avoid damaging the historical facade of the building, you might walk around the house and see box fans shoved into the window frames during the summer because fuuuuck trying to install modern AC through 18th-century brickwork.

As for heat, well, for a frame of reference, the James J Hill house up here in MN—built roughly around the same time during the Gilded Age when the Waynes were pioneering industry in Gotham—was forced to rely on a boiler roughly the size of a steam engine to heat the house and used 250 tons of coal each year to keep it warm. That boiler provided hot water and ambient heat through steam radiators, but they also still had fireplaces in almost every room to try and compensate for the winter. The house was updated for modern heating and air conditioning within the last 40 years, but with a house that size and ceilings so tall, it's not particularly efficient. They still rely on box fans and space heaters to keep the space habitable during summer and winter.

New Jersey is not as far north as Minnesota, but the temperatures can still drop comparably low, especially when you factor in the seafront Gotham is on. So, while I do think they likely upgraded the heating systems at some point (they can't keep guzzling through coal like that), I also can't help but feel it's got to be cold as hell in that house unless they're being meticulous about lighting fires and airing every room out to prevent damp.

Because that's another thing. If you're not keeping your stone house warm, you risk damp and water damage, and I feel like Alfred would rather gnaw off his own arm than let Wayne Manor crumble to dust with black mold festering in the original French plaster.

So he's not so much fighting a one-man war against climate change as he's fighting a one-man war to keep the house dry. He's walking through rooms no one even uses, making sure the steam radiators are working and opening the windows a crack to let the condensation out.

Is he also turning off all the light switches as he goes? Yes. Is he always yelling, "Why is every screen in this house turned on if no one is using them?" also, yes.

Is Bruce also down in the cave huddled under an extra cape, overclocking the batcomputer to stay warm? Also a distinct possibility.

[undeadcourier]

This is the second in a series of posts meant to explore both real-life cases of radiation sickness and the sci-fi concept of ghoulification in some depth. Graphic descriptions of the physical deterioration of the body are included for informative purposes; reader discretion is advised.

For this second case study, I examine the effects on the human body of exposure to moderate levels of radiation over a long period of time, with a focus on the real case of the Radium Girls, in particular Mollie Maggia. 

Marie and Pierre Curie discovered radium in 1898, launching the Radium Craze. Radium was believed to have numerous health benefits and restorative properties and was used to treat arthritis, hypertension, schizophrenia, and even stomach cancer. It was also used in tonic water, toothpaste, and cosmetics, among many other products. 

After William J. Hammer created a glowing green paint made from radium and zinc sulfide, radioluminescent paint became popular in use on watches and clock dials. Three factories that used radioluminescent paint on watches and clock dials saw incidents of severe radium poisoning in workers, in Orange, New Jersey, Ottawa, Illinois, and Waterbury, Connecticut. 

Dial painters working for the U.S. Radium Corporation, most of whom were between ages 14 and 20, were assured they were safe and were not given appropriate personal protective equipment while exposed to the radium dust they used to mix the paint for the dials. Managers encouraged them to use their lips to create a fine point on their paintbrushes, necessary in the precision work they did, which caused them to ingest small amounts of radium during their shifts. In addition, the radium dust coated their hair and dresses, and some women, believing the radium to be harmless, even deliberately painted their teeth and nails to make them glow. Dial painters ingested about 76 microcuries of radium per year.

In addition to consuming radium in the paint, the dial painters were exposed to the radon gas that resulted from the decaying radium, increasing their exposure to around 13000% more than the maximum annual dose. For comparison, standing next to the Chernobyl meltdown would result in about 30 rem of radiation exposure. 10 rem is the lowest annual dose linked to an increased risk of developing cancer. 200 rem is enough to cause severe radiation sickness and death, and between 300-400 rem is regarded as a lethal dose.

When ingested along with food or water, roughly 80% of radium is excreted, but the remaining 20% travels throughout the body where it is deposited in the bones, emitting alpha particles as it decays and irradiating the cells on the surface of the bones. New bone growth results in radium being deposited deep into the bone where it remains.

The typical period of exposure among the dial painters was two years. Some developed mouth sores after only a month of working at the factories, but for others, symptoms took longer to appear.  First, the women would have felt fatigued and anemic as their damaged bones could no longer replace their red blood cells. 

Because they were primarily ingesting the radium, their mouths were often the most affected. By October of 1921, Mollie Maggia—who'd already had to have a tooth removed—returned to the dentist's chair to have even more of her teeth extracted. The radiation damage to her bones inhibited blood cell production, which in turn prevented the wounds from healing. The ulcers became necrotic and constantly oozed blood and pus. 

Throughout that November, Mollie's condition grew steadily worse, and in addition to the pain in her teeth and jaw, her hips and feet became sore.

As the painters' radiation sickness progressed, their joints would become stiff and severe pain in their limbs limited their mobility. The radium ate through their bones, leaving them perforated in a honeycomb pattern and prone to spontaneous fractures. The women's spines and long bones fractured and shortened.

Some of the women’s skin became so thin that even a fingernail scratch could cause it to split open.

Tumors the size of grapefruits or footballs developed on their bodies, and they suffered from blood disorders, menstruation issues, and sterility.

By January of 1922, Mollie was in constant, unbearable agony. Her teeth were rotting in her mouth and falling out before they could be extracted. In May, Mollie’s dentist was horrified when her jaw crumbled at a gentle touch. He proceeded to remove her jaw, not by an operation, but simply by pulling the disintegrating pieces out by hand. That summer, Mollie’s throat became painfully sore, and she experienced spontaneous bleeding from the jaw. By September, the radiation had eaten through the tissue of her jugular vein to the point of hemorrhage. Mollie's mouth and throat flooded with blood, and she died.

Mollie Maggia was the first from the U.S. Radium Corporation to die, just short of her 25th birthday, in 1922. 12 more women died the following year and another 50 fell severely ill.

[novaviis]

All The King’s Men.

Chapter Six. Persecution Complex.

Watercolour Series.

Words: 47k Status: In Progress Rating: Mature Relationships: Dick Grayson/Wally West, BatFamily

Summary:

A threat against the Wayne Family arises, one that forces them into hiding. Stuck out in a cabin hidden in the mountains of Montana, Dick has to juggle keeping his family from tearing itself apart, missing his fiance like crazy, and a mystery that has plagued him all his life.

Chapter Six Excerpt:

The sweeping aerial shot circling above Wayne Manor could barely contain the magnitude of the fire. Grainy and low resolution as the small television screen was, the image was violent and vivid, a sea of black set alight with strikes of flame glowing blood red, orange, and yellow. It lit silhouettes in shattered windows, illuminated the harried edges of the trees on the surrounding grounds. The flashing lights of first response vehicles only added to the chaotic maelstrom of light. Streams of water shot out from their hoses as they fought desperately to save what little of the structure they still could, while containing the fire from spreading into the surrounding estate. New Jersey was two hours ahead of them, and as late as it was here in Montana, it was the middle of the night back home. There was no way of knowing how much damage had been caused until morning light, if the fire could be put out before then. “Gotham City Fire Department is on the scene with assistance from the Bludhaven units,” reported the news anchor taking up the bottom right corner of the screen. “There has been talk of calling in emergency assistance from the State Troopers, but sources have at this time been unable to confirm that the request has been made. Wayne Manor, aside from being the residence of Bruce Wayne and his family for generations, has been designated as a historic building. Wayne and his children have now been missing for four weeks. No advancements in the ongoing search for the High Profile Billionaire have been announced publicly, although Police Commissioner James Gordon had stated in a press conference the day of the coordinated abductions that all available efforts were being expended to find the Waynes, including a joint effort with the FBI. Whether this fire is connected to the abductions still remains a mystery...”

Things are heating up! 🔥🔥🔥

[Read on AO3]

[miyuhpapayuh]

4. Foreign feelings

She heads into the library and finds a quiet corner, near the back. She pulls the purple, cushioned chair away from the desk and sinks down into it. She pulled her hood over her hair and folded her arms on the table, placing her head on top.

Forcing herself to drink an entire bottle of water with Aspirin, her head is still on fire. She was the definition of a lightweight.

"Stevie?" A voice calls out.

She opened her eyes and lifted her head up, turning to her right. All she sees is a red sleeve and instantly knows it's Rod. She laughs and lays her head back down.

"Please, sit down. You're entirely too tall to be hovering over me."

He smacks his lips and rounds the table, sitting across from her. She hums as his cologne hits her nostrils.

"You good?" She nods, keeping her eyes closed. An unzipping of a book bag is heard, along with the clicking of a pen.

She opens one eye, watching his hand glide across the notebook that's in front of him. This must be for his English paper.

He raises an eyebrow before speaking, "it's not polite to stare, you know?"

"Why not? You look adorable when you're focused."

He raises his eyes up from his paper to settle on mine.

"Are you flirting with me, babygirl?"

"Yep." She responds.

A shocked expression makes its way onto his face.

"Wow, she finally gives a straight answer." He cracks, while she rolls her eyes.

"Anyways," she changes the subject, "what's your paper on?"

"The OJ Simpson murder case. It's some wild shit." She snorts, leaning up from the table.

"Well, out of all the things to write about... that's the most interesting one, for sure." He laughs.

Silence falls over them, a comfortable one. The library is basically empty, besides a couple people towards the front on the computers.

"Random question."

"Shoot," she placed her chin in the palm of her hand, giving him her attention.

"What's your last name?"

"Johnson. What's yours?"

"Black," he clicks his pen and sits it down, "is Tyler the only friend you have?"

"Pretty much. The girls here are cool, I guess, but they try too hard and I don't have time. We've been friends since high school, and we've been inseparable ever since. What about you?"

"I'm a loner, honestly. I have friends back home, though. We link up around the holidays and the summer, but that's about it." He shrugs.

"Back home... where's that, if you don't mind me asking."

"New Jersey."

"Aw, you're like an hour away. That's gotta be convenient." He nods, smiling a bit.

"Yeah, it is. I make it a priority to keep money aside to go back home, from time to time."

"That's sweet. I bet your folks love seein' you."

"It's just my mom, actually."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Unfortunately, my dad's never been in my life like that." She sighs, feeling bad for him.

"I'm sorry..."

"It's okay. My mom's like my whole world."

"Must be nice. My parents are total assholes." He chuckles at her air quotes.

"Really?" She nodded, rolling her eyes at the thought of that conversation.

"Yeah, they disowned me." His brows furrow.

"Is that what happened, that day I came and picked you up?"

"Yeah. We got into this dumb argument and my dad told me that I didn't have to worry about him or my mom doing anything pertaining to me, anymore." The shocked look on his face only grows.

"What the hell? That's the craziest thing I've ever heard. I'm sorry that happened to you."

"It's fine. My dad actually tried to apologize to me, but I didn't care. Damage is done, ya know?" He nods.

"Well, everybody has bad stories. I'll tell you mine, one day."

"Alright, Ima hold you to that." She looked at the clock behind his head, squinting a little to read the time. 9:45 a.m.

She sighs and scoots her chair away from the table, beginning to stand up. He stands up as well.

"What's your first class?"

"Math."

"Mine is no better. I got biology."

Tossing his notebook back into his bag and zipping it up, he slings his bag over his shoulder and reaches out for her hand.

She stares at it, before placing mine in his. He laughs at her slight hesitation, making her blush.

"Is this too much for you?" He asks, as they start walking out of the library and towards her class. She shakes her head.

"Nah, it's just... new. Real new." She looks up at him.

"Yeah, for me too. But, this feels nice." He glances at her, then back at the semi crowded hallway.

They stop in front of her class, with their fingers still intertwined.

He licks his lips before pressing them against hers. Her body presses into his, slightly and he smirks against her lips, before pulling away slowly.

"I'll meet you after class, aight?" He says.

She nods. He finally releases her hand and heads back into the opposite direction. She sighs and heads inside.

"Mhm, I saw it too... that must be her man."

"Nah, that's gotta be a side chick or sumn— she ain't cute enough!"

"Maybe, y'all should mind y'alls business. That'd be great." They both look in her direction with flushed facial expressions.

"Oh," she sat down in my seat, "and that is my man. All fine and all mine." She winks at them, making them gripe and turn around.

༺═───────────────────────────────────────═༻

"And, what did he say?"

Stevie secures the lid on top of the hot coffee and hands it to the customer, before turning back to Claire.

"He thought it was cute."

She giggles, pushing her curls away from her shoulders. 

"Are y'all official?"

She shook her head.

"Nah, we still gotta get to know each other better, and all that good shit. I feel like we're moving at a steady pace, though." She nods, moving to her left to start wiping down the counter.

"Well, that's really cute. I've only seen him a few times, but y'all are adorable together." She blushes.

"Thanks, C." A couple of customers came in, pulling them out of conversation and back into work mode.

There's a couple and a group of teenagers. The teenagers head towards Claire, while the couple heads her way.

"Oh my gosh, you're so pretty!" She smiles at the brown skinned woman. Her black coils are piled on top of her head, wrapped up in a red satin-like scarf.

"Thank you! So are you," she looks beside her, nodding at her boyfriend or so she's guessing. "How are you?"

He nods, sending a small smile her way, and she returns the gesture, proceeding to take their order.

“What can I get for y'all, this afternoon?"

"I'll take a mocha latte and a chocolate chip muffin."

"I'll just take a black coffee."

She writes everything on a sticky note and hands it to Alana. She begins to fix the coffee, while she retrieves the muffin.

"What's your name, doll?" She placed her treat in a bag and slid it across the glass counter.

"Stevie." She looks at her boyfriend and comes back to her, making her look between the two of them, confused.

"You know John?" She asks, making her heart stop for a second.

"John who?" She asks.

He squints his eyes, before saying, "Stevens."

Alana walks up beside her, placing both drinks on the counter.

"I used to work with him, what's this about?"

"His friends know a few of mine. We were aware that he was fired and he told us that it was because of you, love." 

The irritation spread across her face like a wildfire.

"I didn't get him fired— you know what, this isn't the time or the place. Your total is ten dollars and five cents." Stevie says, feeling her anxiety rise.

She pulls out her card and completes her transaction.

"Thank you, Stevie. Our intentions weren't to disturb you, I apologize."

"Have a nice day."

They move to the side, letting other customers in front of them and eventually head out the door.

She sighs and continues serving.

I have no time for this mess.

༺═───────────────────────────────────────═༻

She decided to stay an extra thirty minutes, today, to let Claire know about the whole John situation and whoever those customers were.

She informed her to let her know when they come back, so she can handle the situation accordingly. It made her feel a little at ease, along with the schedule changes being made.

She'll now only be working until eight, at the latest, instead of closing like she's used to. She'll miss it but her safety comes first.

"Hey, lovebug!" Tyler comes beaming around the corner, plopping down on top of her. Caught off guard, she stares at her with wide eyes.

"Hey... why're you so cheery?" She smiles even harder.

"I got a job!" Stevie's eyes grow wider.

"What?! Where??"

"It's a café called The Little Diner. They sell more breakfast stuff than anything else, and it's got this cozy, old timey feel to it. My boss is this high yellow, gray big-haired woman. She's got the sweetest voice ever and she's already taken a liking to me."

"I'm so proud of you, girl! I knew you'd find a good place for yourself. I felt it."

She playfully rolls her eyes and gets up from Stevie's lap.

"Thanks, girl. I officially start Wednesday." She nods and pulls her hair up into a bun.

"How was work?" Stevie sighs at the question.

"Some people came in today, asking me what my name was and shit about John. It made me super uncomfortable and irritated, because he got people thinking that I got him fired. I'm not tryna get caught up in some bullshit, just cause that muhfucka can't get it through his head that he needs to fuck with bitches that actually like his stupid ass. Like, what the actual fuck?"

"Again, do you want me to gut him like a fish?" There goes that damn grin, again.

She grimaces and zones out for a second, thinking back to what Rod said.

"Stevie... hello!" She snaps her fingers in her face, pulling her back into reality. She chuckles and looks at her.

"The hell was that about? Why you laughin'?"

"I told Rod about him, and he told me that if anything was to ever pop off, he'd handle it." She raises an eyebrow.

"Ouu shit na! Big Daddy handlin' your problems, huh? Y'all must be serious—"

"Seriously, shut up. That sounded so ridiculous, Tyler." She starts laughing. She sucks her teeth.

I literally might strangle someone over that noise, one day.

"Whatever, heffa. I'll keep my hands clean... for now." She walks into the kitchen, leaving Stevie.

She eventually heads upstairs. Heading into her bathroom, she strips down and take a quick shower, brushing her teeth once she's done.

She heads into her room and grabs an oversized T-shirt, pulling it on. It's abnormally hot in her room, so panties are not an option tonight.

Turning her fan on, sitting down on my bed and grabbing her phone. She calls Rod and waits for him to answer.

"Hello," his voice comes through deep and raspy, making her insides flip.

"Hey... did I wake you up?" She asks, as shuffling sounds on his end.

"A little, yeah." He laughs. "But it's alright, is everything okay?"

"Well, not really...."

"Lay it on me, babygirl."

"You remember that guy I was telling you about, at my old job? Well, there was this couple that came in today. They were cool at first, then started asking me what my name was and looking at me funny. Come to find out, they know of each other and he's going around telling people that I got him fired and whatever the hell else he can make up, I guess."

"You want me to handle it?" The authority in his voice does something to me... I can't explain it.

"How would you ev—"

"All I need is a yes, and we can go from there."

"Okayyy,” she drags out, “yes."

"Alright, ima take this off your hands so don't go worrying about whoever they were, him or anything else about that situation, aight? I got you."

"Thank you." An mhm sounds on his end.

"How was your day, other than that?"

"It was alright. I missed you," it came out, before she could catch it. She mentally smacks herself.

"Word?" Amusement is laced in his tone, causing her to let out a sigh.

"Yeah."

"Hm.. I might've missed you, too."

"Might have? What does that mean?" He starts laughing at her defensive mood.

"It means, maybe I missed you... maybe I didn't miss you." She pressed her tongue against the inside of her cheek and rolled her eyes.

"Wow, using my line against me. I thought you were better than that."

He laughs, again.

"I can stoop to your level, if need be. That opportunity was right in my face, babygirl."

"Anyway... I was gonna ask you how your day was, but I don't care anymore."

He smacks his lips.

"Yes you do."

"No I don't."

"If you didn't care, you wouldn't have announced that you were gonna even ask me about my day, dear."

"No, I only did that because it's polite, honey."

"Whatever you say, darling." She cracks a smile.

"Okay, Roderick."

"Using my government name, now? Wow, Stevie." Again, shuffling is heard.

"Hey, are you at home, by any chance?"

"Yeah. What's up?" She perks up a little bit.

"I wanna see you— if that's okay," she pulls the cover back and sits up.

"Uh yeah, that's fine."

"Okay, I'll be there in like five minutes."

She hangs up and stands up from the bed. She opens her top drawer and pulls out her lace panties and pulls on the first pair of sweats she can find.

She headed downstairs and slipped her feet into her slippers by the side of the couch and sat down, occupying herself with an episode of Living Single.

Another episode on the love story gone sour, between Scooter and Khadijah.

"Ugh, they can never get it together." Tyler comes around the corner, startling her some.

Walking beside the wall unit, she finally gets a good look at her friend. She's dressed in dark blue distressed jeans, a lace bodysuit and black strappy heels. Her hair is parted down the middle and her lips are stained with a plum colored lipstick.

"You look good! Where are you going?" Stevie asks.

"There's this party in Manhattan. I know after the rough day you've had, you'd rather chill here or something. Then, I was gonna come ask you but, I heard you on the phone with your boo so I left it alone."

"Well, it's a good thing you're a detective, cause I honestly just wanna stay home. As a matter of fact, Rod is on his way over here, so you have fun."

She makes a goofy face.

"Oouu, let me find out you tryna get some dick!"

"He's not even my boyfriend," she scrunches her face up.

"Lie again."

A knock sounds at the door, stopping their conversation. She backs up towards it with a smirk on her lips.

Stevie gets up and follows her. She unlocks it, pulling it open to reveal someone who's not Rod.

She sighs and turns away, heading back to the couch.

"Hey, babe!" She looks back at me and waves. She returns the gesture, along with, be safe.

A few seconds later, another knock sounds at the door. She gets up and opens it again, sighing heavily because Tyler never locks the damn door behind herself.

She comes face to face with gorgeous himself.

His waves are hidden underneath a dark red, velvet durag this time. A black hoodie graces his upper half, while gray sweats grace his lower half.

“Hi,” she says.

“Hey,” he responds.

She steps to the side and lets him walk inside, not without planting a kiss on her cheek. She blushes and closes the door, locking it behind herself.

He takes a couple steps into the common area and turns around to look at her. "So, this is how you livin', huh?"

She giggles and grabs his hand, leading him into the living room. He sits down, immediately fixing his eyes on the tv.

She starts to sit on the cushion beside him, but instead gets pulled into his lap.

Her eyes grow wide for a second, as she shifts a little, then becomes perfectly still.

He places his chin on her shoulder and wraps an arm around her waist. She relaxes a little bit and stares at the screen.

"So, you missed me, huh?" His breath tickles her neck.

"I actually did, yeah. It seems like you missed me a little more than you're letting out, though."

His deep chuckle vibrates through her.

"Well for one, I wasn't expecting you to feel the same I did, so I tried to play it off. But, you're right, I missed you." He places a wet kiss on her neck, causing the inside of her thighs to tingle.

"I can see that," she says, as his arm tightens around her waist.

His free hand plays with the end of her ponytail that's thrown over her shoulder, absentmindedly twirling random strands around his finger.

"Have you ever had a boyfriend, before?"

"Nah. I hadn't even been on a date, until you came along." He turns her sideways on his lap, staring down at her with wide eyes. She laughs.

"For real?"

"For real." She slides off his thighs and onto the other cushion, leaving her wine painted toes in his lap.

"That's crazy! Can I ask why?"

"I mean, boys were never an interest to me, in the first place. Like, of course everybody has their crushes and whatever else, but that's where it stopped for me. Tyler was always the one who got kissed after her classes, walked to her classes, taken out on dates and whatever else. While I was making sure I stayed on top of my studies, and kept my reputation as being the boring one." She laughs, shrugging.

"You're definitely not boring. But, I understand what you're saying. If it makes you feel any better, I've only had one girlfriend."

"That makes me feel a little better," she teases.

"Maybe I'll earn that title, one day." A smirk tugs at the corner of his plump lips.

"Maybe you will." His right hand rests comfortably on her ankle, while the other drapes the back of the chair. She pulls her hands inside her shirt and sinks down into the chair, getting even more comfortable.

They stayed that way until almost midnight.

A short marathon of one of her favorite shows, turned into a movie that neither one of them had seen nor wanted to see.

"I guess I should be headin' out. I gotta be up pretty early."

She pulls her legs off his lap and stands up, holding her hand out. He places his warm hand in hers and lifts up from his spot.

She cuts the tv off and leads them towards the door. He drags his feet behind her. She snickers and turns around, pressing her back to the wall beside the cold door frame.

"Do you have classes tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I have two. The first one is at twelve." He nods, rubbing a hand over his covered waves. She licks her lips.

"You wanna go to breakfast with me tomorrow morning? My treat."

"I'd love to." His dark orbs pierce through her, making her shrink underneath his gaze.

His feet take a couple strides towards hers, while his hand pulls her chin up to look at him. She sucks in a breath, out of habit.

"Do I make you nervous?" He asks, and she shakes her head.

"No, I've just never... felt this way before." He moves in closer to her lips, making it harder for her to breathe correctly.

Relax was the last thing she heard, before his lips were pressed against hers.

A sort of moaning sigh leaves her, making him press against her body. She wraps her arms around his neck, while his hands find her waist.

His teeth capture my bottom lip and tug on it, causing her mouth to open slightly and allowing his tongue to invade. 

Although this is new, it feels so natural.

She follows his rhythm, somewhat afraid that she'll mess up the mood if she goes astray. His fingers press into her sides, making her skin grow hot.

Pulling away from her swollen lips, his plump ones peck the corner of her mouth, all the way to a sweet spot on her neck. Her hands latch onto the back of his neck.

"Rod..." she whispers, her head falling back against the wall, feeling his teeth pinch her skin, then the soft butterfly kisses cover it up.

His tongue swipes over a specific spot, making her lower region throb. She softly pushes him away, trying to calm her hormones.

A smirk dances across his face, prolonging the throbbing. He pecks her lips again, before unlocking the door.

"I'll get outta here, before I start something you can't keep up with..." he sends a wink her way, "I'll see you tomorrow."

He leaves, closing the door behind himself.

She turns and locks the door, before heading back upstairs. She heads into the bathroom, turns the light on and a dark red bruise catches her eye.

"Woah.." she ran her fingers over it, still feeling his lips there.

Climbing into bed, she knew that tonight, her dreams were gonna be about nothing else but his lips on hers.

@soufcakmistress @thegifstories @blackerthings @cocoa-puffs @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @chaneajoyyy @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @headcannonxgalore @henneseyhoe @blowmymbackout @darqchilddaydreamz @becauseimswagman1 @twistedcharismaaa @uzumaki-rebellion @trippyscotch @blackpinup22

[communitypublicadjusters]

Happy Labor Day!

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Find us online at or call us at 215-757-7100. We are here for you 24/7. communitypublicadjusters.com public adjusters helping the insured.

[harryforvogue]

Part Two | Chapter Sixteen: Through Sickness and Health

Newport, Rhode Island

July 1919

We haven't done much these past two days and I don't count finding Harry at a cemetery as a vacation activity that a couple does together. But we've been in Newport for two days and have yet to go out and visit the place that Harry heard his friends talk so highly about.

He's heard about Newport from his company members, but he doesn't wish to meet them. I know they're not dead because he's told me they were on the same train home. ButNedjam was alive on that train too, besides Harry, getting off at the stop before the train continued into New Jersey. We haven't spoken about Nedjem since last night, though it's not as if I'll be bringing him up on my own. After the night Harry's had, the new goal is to keep him distracted. Of course what happens in his brain won't be completely transparent to me, but I've become better at reading his facial expressions again, so I use them to judge his mood.

Today is a particularly dry day. The residue of rain is gone by the afternoon, birds chirping loudly and people returning to the streets. The shore is just a few blocks away, the salty air carrying its way over to the hotel where Harry and I sit to have lunch. Due to the situation last night, we've slept in.

Well, Harry slept in until nearly noon. I was just happy being in his arms again. I'd turned around and looked at him for what felt like hours, familiarizing myself with every line and freckle on his face.

This morning, my attention was on the white scar. Since Harry was sleeping so soundly, I took my time, gently tracing over the soft skin with my fingertips. I've never touched it before. It feels softer than his skin everywhere else, a tissue that's saved the injury from bleeding out now separating the hairs of his eyebrow. Hair will never grow there as the cells are too damaged.

I blocked his scar with my finger and looked at his face to see if I could recognize him easier this way. I could; it was 23 year old Harry in my bed again, holding me tightly in the room that once used to be his. We listened to the heavy rain outside and occasional thunder, his hand sliding up and down my sides, creating goosebumps. My own hand rested on his cheek, thumbing at his eyelashes until one fell off. That was the man in my bed.

But when I removed my hand, my husband returned and I realized that no matter how badly I wanted Harry to be happy, the 23 year old would not be coming back and that my husband lying beside me was still the man I would be in love with for the rest of my life.

I swallow some water, remembering how he looked in the bed, white sheets pooling at his waist, his chest peeking out from under his nightshirt.

My throat aches a bit when I swallow. I cough into my arm. Harry glances at me carefully.

"Not getting sick, are you?"

"Of course not," I say dismissively. "Why would I be?"

"If I remember correctly, you stood out in the rain for a good while."

"That doesn't mean I'll get sick," I laugh, resisting the urge to cough again. "Anyways, what should we do today? I want to go out."

Harry nods. "I know. I overheard some people talking about an exhibition at the beach. Some sort of art showing."

"Beach?" I groan, putting my fork down. "I am not going. I will burn and die."

"Wow," Harry says sarcastically around his salad. "At the same time? Maybe you'll catch on fire."

"Ha. So funny."

"No, really. It will be quite a sight."

"You're paler than me."

"But you burn easier than me."

"I will set you on fire."

"Like a candle?"

"Stop!"

Harry laughs softly and slings an arm over the back of his chair. "It's not on the beach. It's in the lighthouse by the beach. Not outdoors. Is that any better or do you want to argue some more?"

I scoff. "Argue? Styles, you know what an argument between us is like."

The smile doesn't leave his face. "Yes. I do. So, shall we go today?"

"What kind of art is it?"

I glance outside. It's dreadfully hot, merely looking at it makes my throat ache with dehydration. I reach for my water. Harry narrows his eyes when I wince at the pain as I swallow.

"I'm not sure. It's some local artist who's given himself a name here or something. We should go. Staying inside is never good for you. I know how much you like being outside."

Those simple words make me lighten and I immediately give in, delighted by what he knows about me, even though it's a very basic fact. "Okay. Let's go after this."

Harry looks at me from over his glass. "Sure you won't catch on fire?"

"Shut up!"

***

Back at the hotel, Harry's getting dressed in the bathroom and I'm pushing earrings through the holes on my lobe. As I hear Harry move around, I wonder how things will be back at home when we eventually get there.

The thought of returning home leaves a bitter taste in my mouth and something falls to the pit of my stomach, cramping right there. What will it be like at home? At school? During dinner? If things are the complete opposite of how they are right now, will us being in such close quarters be as bearable?

I look towards the bathroom door, frowning. Will he come back to our bedroom at home? Or will this progress stay in during the vacation and be one of the memories we leave behind?

As I'm thinking about how things have shifted between us, my anxiety only increases when I remember Harry's job and the administration calling him for an evaluation at the end of next month. It's approaching quickly and these last two weeks have distracted us, but the reality is exactly what I told Harry before we went to Atlantic City and exactly what I've forgotten myself: this vacation is temporary. Our problems will still be waiting for us and ready to be addressed when we return to New York.

And some there, I turn my thoughts towards Harry's emotional issues rather than our marriage. Are all the problems we're solving just going to return in full send in New York?

Harry steps out of the bathroom and fixes his hair. One of his wet curls falls directly onto his scarred eyebrow and he pushes it away, reaching for his watch on the nightstand.

"Ready?"

I look down at my clothes. "Yes." Harry nods and leans down to put his shoes on. I watch him fix his laces and then roll the sleeves of his shirt.

"What's wrong? Why do you look like that?"

I wipe the sweat from my upper brow. "Nothing. I'm just ready to go."

"Eager are we? Even though you were throwing a fit in the dining area."

I gasp. "A fit?!"

"A classic Annaliese fit when she doesn't get her way."

Harry smiles and reaches for his hat, putting mine on my head as he walks by me.

"I rarely ever get my way," I inform him sardonically. "You, however, always get your way."

"I think it's interesting how we both always get our way yet think that we don't. I wonder which one of us is right. Come on, I've got to lock the door."

I walk out, holding my hat on my head because the rush of wind when we leave the room usually knocks it off, but the air outside is dry, so nothing happens. The hot air makes me deflate immediately.

Harry glances at me. "I know. It's not a long walk."

"Walk?" My head snaps up to look at him with wide eyes. "No car?"

"Oh it's not that bad."

"Is it as far as the cemetery?"

"Just a mile more. No big deal."

"Harry!"

***

The local artist goes by the name of Naila Szvescky. The lighthouse itself is quite packed, and more importantly, the people who are there are more dressed for a fancy dinner rather than the beach. I look down at my regular sundress and frown. Perhaps I should have dressed nicer.

I've never been inside of an actual lighthouse, but it's nothing like how it would normally be set up. There are no residents as if this is an actual house, but the place is set up well with the blue walls and the salty smell of the ocean. It's beach themed, similar to how the Atlantic City hotel was decorated, except now there are paintings and sculptures set up around the stairs. People weave in and out of the area and lighthouse itself, walking up the twisted staircase up to the top floor.

Harry places a hand on my head, when I crane my neck to look at the top floor, to make sure my hat doesn't fall off.

The artwork presented by Naila Szvescky is abstract and she's clearly comfortable with using a variety of colors. All the artwork is up for interpretation, the cards in front giving them viewers some insight for respective art. We don't see the artist herself, but the art is engrossing so we don't try to seek her out.

More people arrive and begin to walk through the artwork. Some are alone while most people come in groups all at once.

One of the paintings that grabs my attention is one of a grenade. It's so graphic and I can see all the lines in it, all the different textures, and the smoke depicted around it. It catches my eye because while all the other works are difficult to understand or not coherent, this one is obvious in both its message and it's illustration. The card for it reads, "In Memory Of My Late Brother."

There are no people crowding around this painting. It's to the point, clear. Nobody stands to inspect it. The mere sight of the grenade is intimidating, but the knowledge of what it does to people is more frightening. I feel unsettled and turn to Harry.

He's besides me, eyes training on the painting. He doesn't say anything for a while, but then suddenly blinks down at me and gives me a weak smile. "It looks very real."

I take his hand and gently steer him to a different art work. The sculptures are next. There's a self portrait of Naila and then a few other people, mostly just their heads, perched on a white pillar like something you'd see in an actual museum.

Suddenly, we're all squished together in a tight, hot lighthouse, being shoved around. Sweat drips down my spine. I reach over and quickly grab Harry's hand again, taking note of his discomfort.

There are people swarming us by the time we get near the stairs. As the ground isn't too spacious, people jostle Harry and I, shoving us and pulling us one way and then the other. Harry's grip on my fingers tightens and his ears slowly turn pink due to agitation.

One look at his face tells me he's not enjoying this.

But he sticks it out for an impressive amount of time. Harry has always enjoyed art, especially studying art from years ago, and under normal circumstances, Harry loves being a part of the crowd and following the excitement wherever it leads him, but I know that's not the case right now. I'm keeping a careful eye on him, even shooting dirty looks at the people who push against him or walk into him without apologizing. It's the most I can do, yet the lack of air and the suffocating amount of people getting to me too.

The stern look on Harry's face reminds me of how badly I wish to never see that discomfort again. Especially after last night. It's the last thing I want to see on his face. He should be having fun, laughing.

"Let's get out of here," Harry says quietly in my ear, bending down to make sure he's heard. "Right now, please."

I agree immediately, but Harry doesn't budge. It's as if he's frozen in place, unable to swim through the crowd. I take the role of the leader and begin shuffling through the mass amount of people. I have to shove a bit towards the exit, but when we're out, Harry's hand immediately falls from mine and he finds the nearest bench, sinking into it.

He unbuttons his collar and takes a breath. "Christ."

"Are you okay?" I don't jump at him, giving him space.

"Yes," he says slowly, nodding up at me. "I'm fine. Just so many people. Reminds me of something."

I sink into the seat beside him, passing him my handkerchief. "What is it?"

His eyes are unfocused, but he still manages to look at me. "It's stupid. It reminded me of the enlisting room. It was hot in there, unbelievably stuffy. Same time as now, same weather. And it smelled so badly of sweat." His eyes darken. "Do you know how bad a room of 100 men smells?" He shakes his head. "It's awful." He rubs his upper brow with the cloth. "I didn't think it would be so bad there."

"It was pretty bad," I admit. Harry makes a noise in the back of his throat to express agreement.

"How are you feeling? Still sick?"

I blink at him in surprise. "I'm not sick, Harry. I never was."

"You look sick."

Frowning, I wipe the sweat from my face with the clean side of the cloth. "No, it's just the heat. Let's go for a little walk and then we can head to the beach for a swim. How's that?"

Harry says, "No. No cold water for you. You're sick."

I cross my arms. "I'm not sick!"

"Let's see in a few hours."

He stands up and rolls his neck until he hears a solid crack from both sides. "Let's go walk, then."

***

Two hours later, Harry rests his hand on my forehead and sighs, his shoulders falling. We're back in the hotel, my nose dripping and my body trembling.

I know he wants to do nothing more than scold me, but instead he stands up and fills a glass of water for me. He holds his hand under my chin as I messily drink, giving him the saddest look I can put on my face.

"Don't give me that look," he says, putting the glass on the side table. "I told you not to stay outside for too long."

I want to argue, but my throat feels tight. Swallowing has been rough and I'm sure using my throat to talk even more than I already do will make matters worse. If I were able to reply, however, I'd tease him and say that he must be happy I'm barely able to talk. But judging from the expression on his face, I know that irritating him will only make matters worse on him.

Harry looks worried, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he puts his hand on my forehead again, for longer this time, and sighs once more, shaking his head. "I told you," he repeats, sitting beside me. "Didn't I?"

I woke up this morning feeling completely fine, and yet I have a fever and my throat isn't working because it's so sore. Harry runs his fingers gingerly over the sides of my neck to check my lymph nodes again.

"I just don't understand how this happened so fast," Harry says, brows pushed together. You were only out in the rain for a few minutes."

"Actually," I croak, "I went back outside while you were showering."

"You..." he trails off. "God, Annaliese. Your hair was wet!"

"Yes. I should've known better."

"Damn right you should have," he says, shaking his head. "Bet you had your fun, huh?"

Grinning, I nod. He stands up and takes the glass, bringing it to the table in the middle of the room.

"I should stay away from you then, since you're sick."

That kills the mood. My eyes widen and I shake my head quickly, holding my hands out towards him. When he turns back, there's a faint smile on his lips before it's gone. He leans against the table with his palms, looking up at the ceiling incredulously.

"Okay," he says finally after a few moments of thinking to himself. "I'm going to run to the pharmacy and get you some medicine. You," he says, pointing his finger accusingly at me, "are going to stay in bed. If I see that you've moved even half an inch, Annaliese, I'm going to be very upset."

A thrill runs up my spine at his orders and I nod solemnly. He walks back to me and pulls the sheets away from the bed and waits for me to tuck myself in. Then, he drapes the sheets over my body and shoves them tightly under my body.

"I feel like a mummy," I tell him.

Harry flicks my forehead. "I'll be back in a bit. Do. Not. Move."

"Yes, sir."

"I'm serious, Annaliese. I better not see you out of bed."

"Yes, doctor," I sweetly reply and then sneeze twice, shuddering until I relax back into the mattress. "Merde. Even sneezing hurts. Talking too."

"Maybe you should stay quiet then," Harry says, shrugging his jacket on and then bending down to lace his boots. "For once," he adds under his breath as if I can't hear him.

***

I fall asleep almost as soon as he leaves. My dreams are feverish and distorted and I wake up drenched in sweat. I wake up a while later when the sun is beginning to set.

I couldn't have slept for more than half an hour. I don't fall back asleep right away. My stomach aches with the need for food, however, Harry's voice echoes in my head. Somehow, he'd just know if I moved from my current position.

Cold sweat is pooling at my hairline and other places I don't want to mention. The thought of a shower is so attractive right now, I nearly get up and crawl to the bathroom.

I wait for a long time in bed before gathering enough strength to sit up and reach into the drawers beside me to grab a book and distract myself.

All the books in the drawer are Harry's foreign ones. The erotic book is there and I steer away from it, not wanting to laugh and hurt my throat even more. Not to mention my head is pounding.

I pick up the red book instead, the only other book. It's an Italian book. I open the cover and squint at the small words. A sheet of paper falls out from one of the pages. I reach for it and unfollow the paper.

I instantly recognize Harry's handwriting, the elegant form far more fancy and legible than mine could ever be. It's a letter.

It is only a page long and smeared with ash or dust, translating black onto my finger tips from where I hold the page. This is Harry's personal belonging, so I tuck the paper back into the binding of the book.

It folds almost perfectly with the name of who this letter is addressed to staring up out of the fold. I nearly shut the book and place it back into it's drawer until I realize it's my name written at the top.

It reads, "Annaliese." No other greeting. Just that.

The date tells me this letter was written right before Harry was shipped back from the western front. Conflicted, I pull the letter back out and slide the rest of the folded part half an inch down. The first sentence is all I'm going to read, I tell myself firmly. Harry deserves privacy.

The first part, however, causes me to pause, pain spreading through my chest, mixing in with the symptoms of my cold. My eyes water instantly on their own, breath caught in my throat.

I don't want to read something so personal to Harry, so intimate that he carries it nearly everywhere he goes. He's tucked it in a book he knows I would never open.

I inch the paper down more, catching some words before I can stop myself.

It's addressed to me, I think. I should read it.

Suddenly, I violently push it away and shove it under the sheets. "But he didn't send it," I remind myself out loud, hitting my palm against my forehead. "Be smart. Don't break his trust."

The last thing I want to do is ruin something strong between us. It's why I decide to tuck the book and letter back into the drawer. Be smart, I think to myself, sliding back against the mattress.

***

It's hard to be smart and fever ridden at the same time. As I stumble in and out of sleep, I imagine myself opening the drawer and reading the contents of the letter. I wake up every time and make sure the letter is still there. Pain runs through my body as I shiver, tightening the sheets around my body the best I can. My teeth begin to chatter, fingers almost numb. I feel delusions, vision swimming whenever I try to get up.

Harry should be coming soon. I hope he hurries.

I close my eyes.

***

Harry's there when I open my eyes again, placing a glass of water on the side table. His cool hand rests on my forehead and he clicks his tongue.

"Christ," he mutters.

"That bad?" I croak.

"Stay quiet."

I laugh quietly, putting a hand on my chest when it begins to ache. "Sorry."

"I've got a lot of stuff for you. Let's get you up." He wraps his arms around my middle and shoulders, gently forcing me up. I groan and let him move me while trying to help him.

He delivers the medicine to me, watching me sympathetically as I swallow with difficulty. He opens the drawer to push the medicine in while ordering me to lay back down.

When he opens his drawer, he hesitates after putting the medicine away, and slowly pulls out the book. Fear strikes my chest. I put the letter back didn't I?

Harry takes a deep breath, expression unreadable. "Were you doing some reading?" he says as he sits beside me.

Inhaling sharply, I push my palms into the mattress to try to sit up better. "I didn't read the letter I promise! You have to believe, I didn't!"

To my surprise, his eyes are light, eyebrows raised with humor as he watches me lose my mind.

"I believe you," he says, sliding the letter out of the book. "Lay back down. I wouldn't have been upset if you read it."

"How did you know I looked at it?!"

Harry frowns. "The red book was under the French book. I remember that. Why didn't you read the letter? It's addressed to you."

"But...you never sent it! Which means it's still yours."

He holds the letter out towards me. "Here, I'm sending it now."

"Harry, you don't have to. I promise, I wasn't that curious."

Harry laughs quietly, opening the letter. "I can tell when you're lying. Here. I didn't want to send it at that time because I'd just been injured and I guess I didn't want to worry you too much or feel the guilt of making you upset with me. At that time, I felt ashamed of what had happened, so even though I wrote this, I didn't want to send it. Now, though, because of this vacation and home much we've grown, I think I can finally deliver it to you. So please, Annaliese. Just take it.."

"Ashamed?" I swallow hard. "Harry, if I ever said something to make it seem like I'd be more upset at you getting hurt than your actual injury—"

"I know you didn't mean it," Harry quickly interjects. "That's not all that I was worried about. It was the end of the war and I was in the infirmary for weeks. I felt like I didn't have a purpose and I was scared as to how you'd react to me when I came home?"

"Because of your scar? Harry," I whisper, throat closing up due to my emotions and not my illness. "I told you I didn't care about it. You're still you. My Harry."

His lips thin but spread into a smile nonetheless. "I know, Annaliese. I was more worried about my behavior and the person I had become. It was right for me to worry considering all the arguments we've had so far have been because of that. It was unavoidable. One couldn't just go to war and come back the same person. I think it especially hurt me because I loved life with you and I was afraid I would make life less enjoyable for you."

I run the back of my hand over my face, putting the letter down and reaching for his face. "I love life with you. I love you."

Harry leans in and hugs me tight, chest to chest. He firmly kisses my hair and mumbles in my ear, "Stop it. Stop crying over me. I hate it."

"I can't help it. I don't want to cry because it scares you but I can't stop it." I pull away, sniffling. "Every time I see you, I just want to hold you and cry."

"Seems like I'm not the only one that changed," he whispers, kissing my head again, holding the back of my neck. When he pulls away, he looks down at the letter and then at me.

"I want you to read it. Maybe it'll help me because my feelings will be out in the open. Please read it."

"If it will help you, you know I will try it."

He nods. To my surprise, however, Harry doesn't sit and watch me read it. Instead, he stands up and sticks his hands in his pockets, walking backwards.

"I'll go shower," he says, giving me a small smile. I don't ask him why he doesn't want to stay with me. He's had a rough day. I wish he'd hug me again though, but I can wait, no matter how excruciating the desire is to wrap myself into him and stay there for hours.

I say, "Okay. Take your time."

When he shuts the door, I slowly open the fold and begin reading the letter.

[livefromphilly]

Sony A7CII Thoughts After Two Months

PROS:

The A7C was already one of my favorite cameras of all time and this improves on it a lot more than I thought when just seeing the specs. The added front dial alone makes it many times easier to control than the older model, and lets me use my typical Sony setup that I’ve grown accustomed to (aperture on front dial, shutter speed on rear dial, and ISO on the scroll wheel). 

This is the quickest operating Sony camera I’ve owned. I think they kind of lulled me into forgetting how fast cameras can be going from off to on and taking photos. The A7RII was slow as heck with each subsequent model I’ve owned getting faster and faster (A7III to A7C to A7RIV). This new Sony is at a level of speed that makes it hard to go back to using the A7RIV which I still own (for now). 

The autofocus is superb. I still haven’t really put it through its paces since I got the camera in the winter and the lack of light plus uncooperative weather has made it tricky to go out and shoot, but from what I have shot it’s nearly flawless. It’s way better than any camera I’ve owned before. It also has some really neat autofocusing modes, like the ability to focus on the eyes of birds. I’m not really around birds close up all that often but it worked really well at an exotic bird place in Jersey I went to recently. 

The camera is 33 megapixels, which is a nice compromise between feeling like it’s sometimes too much (61) or too little (24). 

The in-body image stabilization is really good. It’s certainly the best I’ve used in any camera so far…although to be fair I’ve never used a Nikon/Canon/Fuji/Olympus body with IBIS, only Ricoh (GRIII), Panasonic (GX7 and GX85), and Sony. 

It can lower the shutter when switching lenses so dust doesn’t get in there. Not gonna lie it seems kind of dangerous and something that could potentially damage the shutter, but so far it’s kept the dust out. 

CONS:

The viewfinder isn’t great. I’ve never really been an EVF snob since I’ve been shooting on mirrorless EVFs for over a decade now (I had a V1 back in 2013), but going from the A7RIV to this makes it kind of stick out. I also recently handled an A7RV, which really blows it out the water. With autofocus lenses it’s no problem, but using manual focus lenses is more difficult. On the plus side, it automatically goes into peaking mode when you manually focus, even when using adapted lenses or lenses without electrical contacts. 

The camera only has one card slot. Not a huge dealbreaker considering every other camera I own aside from my A7RIV is the same in that regard. A second slot even if it was a micro would have been great though. A nice thing about the A7RIV is that I’ve never left home without a memory card because even if I forget one there’s always another in there. 

No joystick. Again, not completely necessary but it’s nice to have. Most of my subjects aren’t humans (or animals, or other things that the camera can instinctively detect) so there are plenty of times I want to position the focus point myself. 

Slow flash sync and shutter speed. This camera is like the A7C before it in that it only flash syncs up to 1/160. It also only shoots up to 1/4000.

Still don't love the flip screen because it makes quick waist-level shooting a pain in the ass. I wish they went with the A7RV style screen.

Speaking of, all the new perks on this camera make me want to use it a ton more than my A7RIV, but it also makes me want to get an A7RV. Maybe I'll sell my X100V since the prices are nuts right now...

SAMPLE PHOTOS:

Sony 85mm f/1.8 | ISO: 250, f/2.8, 1/125 sec

Sony Zeiss 55mm f/1.8 | ISO 100, f/1.8, 1/160 sec

Sony 85mm f/1.8 | ISO 5000, f/1.8, 1/50 sec

Tamron 20-40mm f/2.8 @ 20mm | ISO 3200, f/2.8, 1/125 sec

Sony Zeiss 55mm f/1.8 | ISO 100, f/2, 1/160 sec

Sony Zeiss 55mm f/1.8 | ISO 12800, f/2, 1/50 sec

Sony Zeiss 55mm f/1.8 | ISO 100, f/2.2, 1/640 sec

Tamron 20-40mm f/2.8 @ 32mm | ISO 320, f/2.8, 1/20 sec

Sony Zeiss 55mm f/1.8 | ISO 100, f/1.8, 1/500 sec

Tamron 20-40mm f/2.8 @ 37mm | ISO 800, f/2.8, 1/40 sec

Sony 24mm f/1.4 GM w/ K&F Concept Black Diffusion 1/4 Filter | ISO 8000, f/1.4, 1/50 sec

Sony Zeiss 55mm f/1.8 | ISO 250, f/1.8, 1/125 sec

Sony Zeiss 55mm f/1.8 | ISO 250, f/2, 1/125 sec

Tamron 20-40mm f/2.8  @ 20mm | ISO 400, f/2.8, 1/40 sec

Sony 24mm f/1.4 GM | ISO 8000, f/1.6, 1/50 sec

Tamron 20-40mm f/2.8 @ 20mm | ISO 100, f/2.8, 1/320 sec

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A professional water remediation company in New Jersey, such as P&M Mold Pro, offers a rapid response to water damage emergencies. Immediate action helps prevent further damage, mold growth and reduces the overall cost of restoration.