Ficlets

Cameras Love To Be Held

He was holding the grip with a shaking hand. He had not held his camera for years. He just felt the leather-like material isolate his palm. He loved it. He forgot how safe it felt.

He went back up stairs with the old strap around his neck and just let his eyes observe everything. Let them try to find that one angle. He wanted to remember what it felt like to enjoy something. Turn nothing into something.

The shutter button had been his friend for so many years. Why was it that he let it all get away from him? Now. Why did he wait till now to come down to the basement and grab the only thing that gave him hope?

He didn’t know the answer. Or if there ever really was one. But his camera was flashing, and that ray of light made it all feel amazing.

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