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“So, what’s in the bag?” she asked him

“My camera”

She snorted when—after a short silence—it beca to elaborate

“Use your words, Ty”

He roan

“What more needs to be said? It’s a camera It takes pictures”

“So does your phone Why do you need a stonking camera like that?”

“It’s a hobby”

“A hobby?”

“I like to photograph the city Specifically at night, after the crowds thin, and it’s quieter I like to walk—or cycle—around the ehts, lost ite I find co, really This place is never silent, you know? The noise isand hard to find true emptiness in a city like this”

His voice faded, and he cleared his throat self-consciously

“And you photograph that emptiness?”

“Yeah”

Of course, he did Why take pictures full of people and life? When he could pursue loneliness even in his hobby?

She stopped walking abruptly—forcing him to do the same—and he stared at her in confusion

“Show me”

“What?”

“I assume you have some pictures left on the camera Show me a few”

“Not now Later? At dinner?”

“Why did you bring the caht? The streets aren’t that eraph here”