Route 7 Review - Page 108

apartment, or holding the photo. On a hard wooden chair, he was looking through the lense of the old camera, and the photograph was made real again. He saw the brilliant light illuminate the coffee shop, he saw the silhouettes, but he didn’t do anything. He didn’t snap the photo this time, because there was no need. He was back. The little store was exactly as it was. The waiter stood behind the counter, taking the drink order of an elderly woman. His computer sat before him, open to the long-since deleted file of his notes for the upcoming meeting. It was the same. Laughing a little to himself, he put the camera back in his backpack, praising God, praising Grandfather, praising whatever made this possible. As his computer went into sleep mode, hi