Broken Camera by Catherine Russell

“What’s wrong with it?” Kat asked.

The clerk held the antique up for closer inspection. “’Hard to say,” he muttered. “There isn’t an SD card or chip…”

“But it works on electricity; right?” she asked.

“If it works,” he said and brushed the top off with his fingers. Dust bunnies scampered across the floor.

She’d read about these contraptions but never seen one before. Its quaintness appealed to her – the huge black plastic box with silver metal and shining lenses. She couldn’t wait to get it home, tear it apart and inspect every detail.

Brushing some of errant bunnies from her shoulder, she feigned indifference. “Well, if it doesn’t even work…”

The man reached out to her receding back. “Wait,” he said.

Raising one eyebrow, she turned back. “Yes?”

“Tell you what,” he said. “It’s been gathering dust here long enough. I can’t seem to unload the damn thing. I’ll let you have it for a buck.”

Her voice was level. “I don’t know,” she said. “It might not even work…”

“Oh, hell,” the proprietor muttered, “You got me. Take it. I’m sick of looking at it.”

Kat took the contraption. “Thanks,” she said.

She meant it. The camera would make the perfect planter for her daisies.

For her purposes, it would work perfectly.

THE END.

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