The bell above the door clanked. Rust and age had ruined its tinkle. Justin stepped inside, immediately overwhelmed by the smell. As he ventured further, he spied a sleek black cat slithering between towering shelves. A gaunt woman with antique vellum skin watched him from behind the counter.
He hated old people and wondered why he let the set designer, Alice, talk him into making a prop run. Digging through dusty antique shops wasn't in his job description. WAY below his pay level. And yet, a tarnished silver-handled hand mirror caught his attention. Pleased, he picked it up, examined its handle—twisting vines and cherubic faces.
"Perfect!" He had a habit of talking to himself out loud.
The shopkeeper looked up, waiting for him to say something more, so he took the opportunity.
"Love it," he said, holding up the mirror.
She nodded. Expressionless, but didn't take her eyes off of him.
"Do you happen to have a Polaroid camera? One of those instant kind, from the seventies?"
She pointed a gnarly finger to his left. He turned around, ready to tell her he'd already looked in that corner. To his surprise, the shelves were full of cameras from different periods.
Justin was still working out the logistics of how he had missed the entire collection of cameras when he discovered the exact model he wanted. To his delight, it was ready to go. And there was a spare film pack sitting next to it.
“Score!”
Without warning, he spun around and pointed the camera at the shopkeeper. Unphased, she smiled, so he snapped a picture. It took a while for the photo to develop. When it did, the image was of a much younger woman. Confused, Justin looked at the photo, then at the shopkeeper.
“Is everything okay? You look like you seen a ghost,” her voice cracked.
“Huh? Yeah. All good here.”
The photo must have been in the camera already. Probably wasn’t her. He slid it into his pocket. The old woman looked amused, which made him irritable. But whatever. Mission accomplished.