"Let's have a moment of silence to mourn Belle."
Upon completing our major exams, my classmates and I were camping out at East Coast Park, celebrating the joyous occasion of recycling our textbooks and rejuvenating our minds. We splashed and swam, ate and drank, shrieked and laughed. It was fun as I had never experienced before.
Despite our ecstatic vibe by the beach, the hysterical giggles that bubbled up into the night sky were punctured by the absence of one of my classmates, Belle, who sank into the shadows of the world, drowning just a month ago.
When we had all said a prayer for Belle, gathering around the shabbily constructed campfire, we played and sang till the blinking stars blanketed the coal-black sky above. Camera in my hands, I clicked furiously away, desperately trying to capture the time of our lives into the mini stack of Polaroids.
Long after twilight, spent, we huddled close together around the fire, resting our heads on each others' shoulders and gradually, finally fell asleep admist the soothing lullaby of the sea.
A crunch of a twig aroused me from my light slumber. Feeling around for my glasses and shoving them on, I caught sight of the small pile of Polaroids splayed on the ground. I reached for the photos, the shadow of a smile toying with my lips as I skimmed through the exhilaration of the last night.
As I reached the very last Polaroid, however, two things struck my mind.
First, the photograph was enchanting as it illustrated all of us sleeping peacefully under the star-lit sky.
Second, all of my classmates and I were in the photo. So, who took it?
Shivers shot down my spine. That was when I felt a light clasp on my shoulder and a faint, somewhat familiar voice whispered behind me.
"Miss me?"
"Photography takes an instant out of time, altering life by holding it still" - Dorothea Lange
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