Perfect Love
Something in the photographer’s tone haunts him.
The man snaps a photograph and his camera spits out a rectangle of developing film.
“There’s something special in there,” he says.
John thinks about this moment for years. The photo is nice, an artistic snapshot of a day at the fair with his husband and kids. But something in the photographer’s tone haunts him.
“Hey!” John says. He is standing in a shopping line, ten years after the photo was taken. In front of him is the photographer, holding a bag of bread.
“Remember that photo you took of me and my family?”
The photographer smiles. “Sure thing.”
“You said there was something special in it.”
“Aw, that’s for sure,” the man chuckles. “I always remember when my lens captures perfect love.”
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