Undeveloped Disposable Camera

Missy was clearing out her closet. It was an ignored closet that she just would push lots of stuff throughout the years. Winter clothes, sports equipment, formal dresses and camping gear. They all got shoved into this closet. So when a free day presented itself, she said that was the day she would go into the closet and clear it out. Although daunting, she really wanted to get it done.

As she started to comb through the various coats, shoes and dresses from past season, she started to relive some of the moments she had in wearing the items. The autumn harvest carnival, smell of spice and fallen leaves in the air, the frosty air just starting to settle in for the year. Camping in the summer with her friends where they had a massive bonfire, played music on a speaker and it turned into a dance party. It was like a physical scrapbook in her closet. As she pulled out coats and dresses and piled them up to be donated, she came upon a curious object. An orange rectangular object lay there on top of a plastic tote box. She picked it up, eyebrows knitting up at the curiosity of what this small rectangle held.

It was one of those disposable cameras one sees while traveling, buy it on the road, or in anticipation of travel. She had no idea where it came from or any recollection of its contents. Standing there, she held it hoping, somehow that it would come to her as natural as a breeze can cool a forehead. Minutes wore on, and she was absolutely stumped as to what event this camera came from. There was only one solution to this whole debacle, it was to get the camera developed.

She took the camera, to her local convenience store and filled out a form and dropped it off with the clerk at the counter. She asked, “When will it be ready for pick up at the earliest?”

”Three days, maybe four, but we’ve been pretty good at getting photos ready in three,” replied the clerk, who looked like a possible student at the university down the street. Wearing a fashionable wolf cut, not exactly a mullet but shorter in the back. His brown hair slightly showing a wave.

“Thank you, I’ll see you then,” Missy said and she was on her way home for three days of wondering.

Since she had found the camera, moments would go back and forth in trying to jog her memory of how she had actually obtained it. Was it on a trip? Which trip? It had 24 photos, none of which she could not remember taking. Who was she with? She didn’t really drink anymore, so there wasn’t a foggy memory to crawl back through.

As the third day grew closer, the anticipation bubbled over.

Image Source: Rept0n1x, CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons