Her Photo Studio – short story
In this era of selfies, my 90 year old Nanna refuses to be clicked by some ‘weird little box’. That’s what she calls my rather big smartphone, the biggest I ever had.
But if I needed her photograph for her passport, what could I do? I had to approach her for a picture.
Once inside her room, where she spends most of her time, I told her to get ready for the picture. She eyed my ‘little box’ strangely and got up. Soon she stepped out of her dressing-room wearing her lovely cream jacquard suit with satiny rims, and dainty heels. I knew she was in her special mood. I had last seen her wearing this attire on her 50th wedding anniversary. Soon after that grandpa had passed away.
She told me she wants to go out for getting her photograph clicked. Her enthusiasm was catchy. I agreed, picked up my mobile phone and drove her to her favorite park. I assumed that’s where she wants her picture taken, but she instructed with her hand, “Not here. There!!”.
Soon we reached a shop front. While she stood waiting, I walked up to a quaint door and checked the rusty board. It was a photographer’s shop all right. She had not brought me to a wrong place. Only that the board said:
“Closed since 1990”
The studio-type photography businesses could probably not survive the technical boom.
My story in response to: Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers
Photo prompt by Uday