Gemotions

He’d always wanted a vintage camera. Now, here it was, nestled amongst yellowed newspapers and moth-eaten blankets. Sunlight glinted off the polished brass. He picked it up, hefting its weight, marveling at the quality. His own camera was a modern digital monstrosity.

His palms itched. He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous habit. The leather of the camera case felt worn and loved. He imagined the previous owner, carefully framing shots, capturing memories. He, on the other hand, just took quick snapshots that were instantly deleted.

"Anything good?" His wife’s voice was cheerful. He grunted, snapping the case shut. "Nothing worth keeping," he mumbled, before quickly heading back downstairs. He was suddenly too busy to help her with the gardening.