Snapshot

I receive a packet of twenty-four pictures in the mail. It’s a mistake. They’re not mine. Curious with this inside look into others’ lives, I examine each photo. Sometimes, the pursuit of truth can lead to lies.

1. The first one is of a man I’ll call Ben, on a bicycle in the middle of a small street. He’s wearing a backwards baseball cap and a big grin. It’s hard to tell the season. The neighbors’ cropped hedges aren’t saying. No snow, no autumn leaves. And the lawns look asleep. 
2. In the next photo a woman stands in a kitchen. She has short black hair. It’s 5:30 according to the wall clock above the sink. She’s cutting bread and seems pleased to have her picture taken. I’m calling her Sarah and putting her age around Ben’s mid-thirties.
3. Ben’s blowing out four candles on a chocolate-frosted cake. Okay, maybe he just turned forty. The folks behind him must be his parents because Ben looks just like the older man. I suppose if Sarah and Ben had kids they’d be in the picture too.
4. Framed between cedar boughs, as if picture is taken through a hedge, two cars are parked by an intersection. A man faces a woman with long brown hair, hand on her hip, head cocked, blouse partially unbuttoned revealing deep cleavage. 
5. In the next shot, Ben reclines with a beer, no shoes. He’s handsome. I see the side of a flat-screened TV. There’s a couch beside Ben but I don’t envision Sarah stretched out on it. Honestly, the size of those depressions in the leather cushions were more likely made by big butts. A man cave. The long low table in front of the couch could hold lots of drinks, chips and at least four pairs of angled sneakers. 
6. A park. Kids running. Dogs on leashes. In the far corner, on a bench, a couple with their heads bent. The woman’s brown hair drapes over her shoulder. I’m thinking, by the flowering trees, it’s late spring. Who or what was meant to be captured isn’t clear. 
7. The blur a camera makes as it moves too fast.
8. Sarah’s clearly the photographer in this family. Now, Ben’s wearing a tank top, washing his red Mazda, flexing his biceps as he wrings the sponge out in front of him. Hey, I recognize his coupe as one of the cars at that intersection. 
9. Oh good, Sarah gets to have fun too. She’s bowling with three girlfriends. Looks like they’re in a league with matching shirts. “Waverly’s” printed on the back. Sarah must have set her camera down because she bowled a strike and somebody took a great shot of it. Way to go Sarah!
10. Sarah and Ben are out for dinner with friends. Maybe the waiter took this pic. The other woman, who is looking at Ben, has long brown hair. Hey, that’s the woman by the car at the intersection and on the parkbench too? Her husband, yes, he’s wearing a wedding band, partially balding, sits about as tall as she does.
11. It’s Christmas. A lot of presents under the tree. Most are wrapped with red buffalo plaid paper and dark green ribbons.
12. Ben has opened one of the plaid packages and holds up a pregnancy wand. He looks confused.
13. In the next picture with knitted brow, he’s reaching up to embrace the person holding the camera, his face a curious mixture of grief and relief. “Grelief”.
14. Sarah’s lying on an examining table. A woman in a swirly-pastel top holds an instrument on Sarah’s exposed white belly. Beside the bed, a screen displays a grainy black and white image.
15. A patio party. Probably at Ben’s folks because Sarah’s father-in-law in an apron with the inscription, “Every Butt Loves a Rub” stands behind the grill. In one hand, he raises a bottle of beer and with the other, he points his stainless-steel spatula at Sarah’s protruding belly.
16. A candid shot of, who is clearly, Ben’s brother using his hand to shield what he’s whispering into Ben’s ear.
17. Ben again. At least it’s his back. I recognize the jacket. He’s boarding a train. Strangely not waving goodbye. Almost as if he didn’t know Sarah was photographing him.
18. Another fuzzy picture. Taken in distress?
19. A newborn’s face - partially obscured by the pink bracelet dangling from her tiny clenched fist.
20. Mommy’s and baby’s blotched faces - inches apart.
21. Ben holds baby away from him as if ready to offer it to whomever comes by.
22. A For-Sale sign juts in front of the house with the red sports car.
23. An angled “selfie” of Sarah feeding her daughter. Her left hand, ring-finger now bare, extends the long-stemmed spoon. 
24. Sarah and toddler on the beach. Leaving me to wonder…who is taking their picture?

["Snapshot" received Honorable Mention in the George Dila Memorial Flash Fiction contest for Third Wednesday  - A Literary and Arts Journal, Fall 2017 issue. It was published under Beckie Dumas O'Neill]