The Artist

Click. The shutter fluttered and an image of Amy's mother appeared on the screen of her new digital camera. In it, her mother attempted to catch a few dirty towels tossed from the second story balcony to join the rest of the laundry. Amy had captured her in a moment of grace, balanced with a leg extended behind her and an arm elongated in front as if in an arabesque. If nothing else, Amy knew how to take a picture, despite only having five years on this earth.

Satisfied with her work, she skipped off to the backyard to study the grass through her camera. While lying prone to capture a bead of dew, she noticed something just out of focus through the lens. She crawled forward and saw It nestled in among a few dandelions. She observed It for a moment, looked about for a possible source of Its presence on the lawn, and then looked back perplexed. However, she shortly turned her attention back to the dew on the grass. Amy had decided that anything so unmemorable would make a lousy photograph.