❝Photography has little to do with the things you see and everything to do with the way you see them❝
When Cecilia Miller finds out that her dad's new fiancée might have possibly seen her hidden stash of photographs, she knew her pictures were...
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CHAPTER 3 - The Photographer & Her Promise
"DO you happen to have the Arista C-41 Powder Color Negative Developer Kit?" I asked the red - headed cashier.
She slowly shook her head left to right and popped her fading pink bubble gum.
"You're a camera shop." I pointed out, gesturing towards the neon sign which read "THE ONLY CAMERA SHOP IN THIS TOWN!"
She sighed and gave me a tired, uninterested look. "Whoops."
My jaw dropped open in shock. Despite the urge to strangle her and stuff her gum up her nose, I slowly shook my head and slung my bag over my shoulder and walked out the door.
Stupid wanna - be.
Monday mornings were the worst. They'd be even more worse if school was open but without school - Mondays were down right pathetic. I have a theory about bad Monday mornings. Perhaps, a sorcerer - no scratch that - a witch's mother was killed on a Monday. In order to seek vengeance the daughter of the dead witch cursed Monday forever eternity. It sounds like a pretty awesome theory - I'm just waiting for people to pick up on it.
My thoughts were interrupted by the blaring of Ke$ha's TIMBER.
"Abigail."
"Cecilia."
Silence.
"What's crackalackin?" Abigail asked in an overly happy voice.
"Nothing's cracking besides my head and what's lacking is yours." I replied, adjusting my bag as I walked towards the nearest café.
I heard he scoff. "Rude."
I chuckled. "They didn't have the developer set."
"Aww, poor Cece." Abigail sympathized. Abigail was possibly the only person who understood the seriousness of my hobby. Dad is well aware of how important photography is to me yet he never really persuaded me towards anything related to photography. Up until the age of fourteen, I'd shown mum and dad every picture I took - even the ones blurred - all this for the sole purpose of an audience.
