Breakdown of Reality

               Jimmy was a photog. He saw the world through a camera lens, snapping photos whenever the fancy took him. He saw everything as captures and shoots, blacks, whites, and color composition. Even when the camera wasn’t in his hand he was always trying to figure out how to get the perfect shot. His friends used them for their photography needs, though he only took candid shots, never poses. His world could be distilled down to a camera, a roll of film, and a dark room.

               Sight was everything to him, which is why it was so tragic when he lost it. Suddenly the man that was always trying to capture the perfect moment, couldn’t even see it any more. It happened during a hunting accident when a flare went off right in front of his face. He wasn’t even out to shoot guns, just his camera.

               The world went black, Jimmy’s own person lens cracked. He grew despondent. He grew sullen.  His friends tried to be there for him, but he pushed each and every one of them away. He ended up an old man at thirty-seven, living in an assisted care home. He shuffled from room to room, staring at nothing, imagining what it must look like.

               He couldn’t see the man. He sounded like he was in his twenties.

               “Hey,” the man said, surprising Jimmy, he’d thought he was alone, he was always alone, “You’re Jimmy Stanford, aren’t you?”

               “So what if I am?” Jimmy asked the man, curtly.

               “I got a book of your shots,” the man said, “Beautiful work, those shots were.”

               “So you got a book,” Jimmy responded, a little angry, “Good for you, what of it?”

               There was a few seconds of silence; Jimmy thought perhaps the man had left as quietly as he’d come in.

               “Ah,” the man said, dashing Jimmy’s hopes that he was alone, “It’s just… they were such beautiful pictures.”

               Jimmy didn’t respond to that, just waited for whatever it was the man was going to say next.

               “World lost a lot when you lost your sight,” the man said, “Was a damn shame.”

               “You’re tellin’ me,” Jimmy responded.

               “Well,” the man said, not appearing to notice how much Jimmy didn’t want to talk, “Way I see it, is that the world needs beauty like yours, doesn’t have enough of it. You know what they been doing lately?”

               “Nah,” Jimmy answered, “Can’t say that I do.”

               “Biggest money these days is in taking pictures of celebrities,” the man answered, “And people are forgetting the truth. See, that’s what was so great about your pictures, the amount of truth that was in them.”

               Jimmy nodded, face actually smoothing out from its standard grimace of pain and disgust.

               “Way I see it,” the man continued, “World needs more pictures like yours. This is why I’d like to give you a chance to take them again.”

               Jimmy snorted, waited to hear the punch line, and realized the man was serious.

               “You’re serious aren’t you?” Jimmy said, more a statement than a question, “You do know I’ll never get my sight back, right?”

               “Yeah, I’m serious,” the man answered, “And yeah, I know your eyes will never work right again.”

               “Well then,” Jimmy responded, “Seems to me those two things would be mutually exclusive, seems to me if I can’t see then I can’t take pictures.”

               “One could believe that,” the man said, rustling in what seemed to be a bag, “However, I do not. I’ve got a camera I’d like you to have.”

               Jimmy felt the man hand him the camera, pressing it against his hands. Jimmy frowned and took the camera. He felt it with his hands, finding the pieces. He brought the window up to his eye.

               And suddenly the room was in view. His eyes opened wide and he dropped the camera down. Nothing again. He brought the camera up to his eye once again and once again he could see. The browns, the yellows, the greens, the light, the darkness, he could see it all once again. He was seeing the room he’d sat in alone many times for the first time. He went to get a shot of the man, bringing the camera where he should have been.

               The man was gone.