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Weekly Contest #258
Hazel's chest clamped up, holding the dark photo beside the window it had once captured. “But there’s nothing to this,” the redhead complained. “Photos should be-”“Alive, I know,” Drew muttered, ladder clanking. Hazel glimpsed over, watching her step down to re-whiten her paint roller. Her thin black hair hung from a ponytail, swinging like her baggy clothes. She challenged Hazel with a look through her bangs. “This one is alive.”“No, it’s not,” Hazel judged, scrutinising the palm-sized picture. “It’s too dark to see anything around the wind...
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