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He smiled and slipped the camera strap over his shoulder.

“Come on. Let’s start outside.”

For the next half hour, I got to stay on the safe side of the camera.

Ellis moved through the bookstore differently when he was working.

I’d noticed it during Open Mic Night, but I hadn’t been able to watch him then. I’d been too busy making sure eighty people had somewhere to sit and nobody knocked over the microphone stand.

This morning, I could.

He took his time.

He stood near the entrance for a while without taking a single picture.

I tried not to watch.

Eventually, curiosity won.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking.”

“You’ve been looking for five minutes.”

“That’s usually helpful before taking a picture.”

I rolled my eyes.

He lifted the camera.

Click.

“Did you just take a picture of me?”

“No.”

“Ellis.”

“I took a picture in your general direction.”

“Delete it.”

“No.”

“You said we weren’t doing me yet.”

“We’re not.”

“Then what did you take?”

He turned the camera around.

I walked closer.

The photograph was mostly the bookstore.

Morning light stretched across the hardwood floors from the front windows, catching the edges of the tables and shelves. I was near the register in the background, slightly out of focus, one hand wrapped around my coffee.