Glitch

High shutter rate—a hundred replicas captured instantly. A hundred and one replicas. How many photos have you taken in your life? asked a voice. I couldn’t fathom. Even a non-photographer snaps a million photos. What would be more impressive is how many words I’ve read. * I woke on the floor in a janitor’s closet. I didn’t remember going into the closet or even the building. My artificial hip hurt from laying there. I had no idea what day or time it was. The place smelled of mop solution. I stood and pissed into the mop bucket. The door was heavy and I slipped out to the hallway beyond, shrinking from the fluorescent light. A school? White tile, cool air conditioning, darkness at the door windows down the hall. My camera smelled like disinfectant. It could be a dream, I thought. My reflection in the door windows defined and absolute as I approached. Total dark beyond. Heat and humidity outside like steam. I texted my desk editor and looked for my vehicle.