Lucia tripped, falling to her knees on
the wet stone of the sidewalk and dropping her only camera – a 5D
Mark II – so it ended up crashing into the edge of the curb. It
came apart into a hundred bits of technology, as if it had been made
of spun sugar. The memory card glared up at her from a shallow puddle
in the street gutter. Any hope of salvaging at least her most recent
work to sell vanished, but she plucked the card out of the water with
an expression of quiet reservation to Murphy's Law on her lean,
doll-like face.
“Damnit,” she mumbled, too
introverted to curse, even when no one was around her. It's not like
her employer would think she was lying, or would be angry, but Lucia
could already see the disappointment drawing lines in his sharp eyes
and on angular features that reminded her of a condor.
She grimaced, trying to keep herself
from breaking into tears right there as she rose to her feet.
Gathering the broken camera, Lucia wondered where the money would
come from to buy a new one – there was no way this mess of plastic
and metal could be repaired. Could she get an advance on work she
wasn't sure she'd even get? It was hard being in a pool of
photographers, all eager to take any job dangled above the proverbial
pit, and all with working cameras – except her.
A heavy, passive aggressive sigh
escaped her lips as Lucia dropped the broken camera into her worn out
messenger bag. She idly traced her finger around the Celtic tree of
life that was silk-screened onto the front. She couldn't just throw
out the camera – her brother bought it for her after breaking into
his college fund he knew he'd never use. Lucia didn't know where
Gregor was, or what he did to survive, but she liked to think he got
a stable job using his hands. He had always been good with his hands.
The city street was deserted around
her, and Lucia paused to admire the effect that the cast iron
streetlights had on making the scene appear darker rather than
brighter. It scared her, no doubt, there was an unease churning her
empty stomach, but it was beautiful. Even after living in the city
for five years, Lucia never ran into any muggers or been assaulted –
she'd admit, though, that probably had to do more with her only going
to out work and grocery shop, and less with the relative safety of
the area.
It began to drizzle and Lucia shook
herself out of her absentminded trance. She shivered and yanked the
high collar of her raspberry pea coat up around her chin. Walking the
rest of the way to her apartment was going to suck, but she set out,
focusing on the click of her heels rather than the chill leaking into
her extremities.
