The lights were at full power, and I had the six-seven set to eight-and-a-half at a thirtieth. The glow of the single umbrella cast luminous warm tones over the room, not leading on to the staccato explosions that were to occur.
I took a pull from the IPA on the desk, and brought the finder to my eye.
A burst of light canvased her face as the mirror went up, and the shutter curtains thundered across the film gate. Lowering the camera as I reset the shutter, I continued looking at her. Her expression remained the same as when I had taken the photograph, with one exception, as a smirk began to creep across her lips.
I raised the camera again.
he did more than just drink that IPA between shots…