Camera - Fiction

She located the large box in the back of her parents' closet and cringed. It had only been a week since she buried her mother, finally joining her husband in eternal sleep, yet she dreaded cleaning out their house. It seemed that the more she cleaned out, the more items she found that she never knew about. So, it was a surprise to find the large box, considering she claimed she had already looked through the closet. She pulled out the box and opened it on the floor to find nothing but vintage cameras inside. She carefully set each one on the floor by her until the box was empty. She then laid on her belly and stared at the collection while wondering what in the hell she was going to do with them. Although she made her living as a photographer, she had more than enough cameras in her apartment. And to be quite honest, she thought to herself as she sat up, I'm not the right person to have them. She returned the cameras to the box except one - a Brownie that looked worse for wear. Something inside of her told her to keep this one. Let this one be separated from the rest of the photographic herd, that voice told her. She held the Brownie in her hands, then brought it to her nose and smelled it. A faint hint of mothballs, mingled with chemicals, memories, and a desire for something else. Something greater. You're going to get a second chance, she told the camera. A second chance for both of us.