West Seventh Freelance

(This will be a first, as I have never participated in a writing post!)

Red dot to red dot. Then the satisfying ‘click’ of the threads meshing; lens to body.

The tax return was spent. All gone. A clandestine trip to the camera store under cloak of suburban mall traffic over, I was now free to play. Of course I began by stalking the cats. Then the mailman. Downloading the newest photos, tiny beads of sweat pricked at my hairline. A voice reverberated through my head. “Don’t go out and spend all that tax return,” it intoned. Shaking it off I continued to work. Hours passed. I heard the car door slam, and immediately looked at the clock. I began to race about my work space. Packing materials flew everywhere, the camera and lens safely tucked away. Faster, faster!! You can explain this all tomorrow.

The front door opened. The entrance. A quick glimpse at the screen. “Wow, nice shot of Dylan!”

The end.

post script: we file returns individually 😉