The day I stopped believing in Love was a Thursday. I was on my way to drop off a roll of color photographs thinking very hard, as I had been all that week, about why it was that I was hurt so badly. I went into the photo lab three minutes before closing and there was an older woman customer who was picking up an abnormally large amount of prints. The lab owner told her the total amount for her order, which came to over $115. She handed the lab owner a single bill and said to keep the change. The lab owner held the bill up and nearly kissed it, thanking the woman profusely, emphatically. She then told the older woman customer that she printed the images as vibrantly as she could. A man came from the back of the lab to take my film. As I was leaving, I heard the owner call him “Carlos.”
The Day
The day I stopped believing in Love was a Thursday. I was on my way to drop off a roll of color photographs thinking very hard, as I had been all that week, about why it was that I was hurt so badly. I went into the photo lab three minutes before closing and there was an older woman customer who was picking up an abnormally large amount of prints. The lab owner told her the total amount for her order, which came to over $115. She handed the lab owner a single bill and said to keep the change. The lab owner held the bill up and nearly kissed it, thanking the woman profusely, emphatically. She then told the older woman customer that she printed the images as vibrantly as she could. A man came from the back of the lab to take my film. As I was leaving, I heard the owner call him “Carlos.”