The colors always seemed sharper when he came into view, clearer. The townspeople didn’t notice him as much as they sensed him- moving imperceptably closer, straightening, laughing more. The mothers smiled at their children’s heightened antics, fathers dropped a few more pennies than usual in the beggar’s tin cup. He stroled down the street, holding his camera lazily at his side. Suddenly he stopped, turned briskly, and walked towards the small, dark woman sitting on the ivy bedecked wall. She twisted a sunflower wonderingly throughout her fingers, as though she was seeing it for the first time. The man stopped in front of her, shifting his umbrella to the other hand as he readied his camera. His movements were brisk, automatic, but as he readied to shoot, he paused for a brief secound, looking at the woman, and smiled.

The townspeople slumped back into their routines as the photographer walked away.