29

It's just as you're thinking this, however, that you start to pick up the sound of approaching voices.

"…Over here? We could get some good shots of the fair."

"Okay. Should I set up the camera?"

"Maybe a little more in the shade…"

Before you can even tell which direction the voices are coming from, somebody steps out from behind a tree right in front of you, walking backwards so that they can still face the fair. You see the person is carrying a tripod over their shoulder and holding an expensive-looking camera, and from the way they seem to be figuring out a line of sight, you can guess that they're trying to work out the perfect shot. Speaking to somebody you can't see, they say:

"Okay, I think here would be a good—"

The person with the camera turns their head to look at the surrounding area—but when they spot you on the bench, they jump and nearly drop the heavy camera in their hand.

"Everything all right, Marlowe?" somebody calls from out of sight.

"Um—yeah, fine!" the person with the camera replies, looking over their shoulder. When they turn back to you, they put a hand on their chest as if to calm their racing heart. At the same moment, they smile as they get a better look at you—and in that same moment, you recognize them as the person whose bike almost collided with you.

You open your mouth and say: