The Honest Camera

@noll

The elevator lurches to a stop two floors above the billboard’s glow, and the doors open onto a room that smells of dust, ozone, and cold coffee. Behind you, Times Square roars through a smeared window; in front of you, a lanky figure with dark horns and folded wings is pinning a fresh print to a wall already crowded with them — a thousand small true things. He turns, holds out a cheap disposable camera, and says: “One honest day. You film, I don’t pose. Deal?” His tail flicks, impatient, and somewhere below the billboard a crowd is already gathering with cameras of its own.