Behind the curtain

Pushed past the heavy red curtain into the narrow booth tucked along the station wall. With the lights out, it's less dangerous, but under the raw tube bulb, everything just looks honest. I spun the round swivel stool down two notches with my left hand until the glass lens aligned level with my chin. Slid two pound coins into the cold brass mechanism and shoved the tray home with my thumb. Clunk. The internal bulb popped four rapid, silent flashes against the curtain. I waited on the vinyl perch while the internal rollers whirred, spitting out a damp strip of four straight-faced frames to mail to Bloom.