I saw that photo in Rustom’s house. I was enraptured by the worn-out photo, having seen it in newspapers.
‘Yes, this was the photo found in the burnt house. People believe that this is the cause of fire. How ridiculous!” laughed Rustom.
“Why did you bring it here?”
“I am going to show the world that this photo has nothing to do with the accidents and fire.”
I lay in my bed, thinking about the photo. Arguing with Rustom was pointless. He never listened to anybody. Suddenly, I felt breathless. Smoke! As I stumbled against the table, I saw the photo. It was too late as I realized that the photo chose its victims, not the other way around.
Written for Friday Fictioneers. Photo by Rochelle.