Day 56 – Hour 005 “Developing Silence”

Day 56 – Hour 005 "Developing Silence"

The streets were still asleep when I left home. No clatter of market carts. No crackle of burners heating early meals. Just the hush before the stir, the kind of quiet that hung around only for those who knew how to listen.

I liked mornings like this. No distractions. No surprises.

At least, that's what I thought.

Marco's shop was already unlocked by the time I arrived.

That wasn't unusual.

What was unusual was the feeling — like I wasn't the first one here.

The door creaked slightly as I stepped inside. The smell of chemicals hung faint in the air, clean and sterile. The workspace was organized as always. Camera parts. Lenses. Clips. Empty canisters in neat rows.

But Marco was already there, standing near the far end of the counter, his back to the door.

He turned only slightly as I stepped closer.

I held up the film pouch, my steps measured.

He didn't reach for it yet.

Just looked at me with that unreadable stillness.

Then, calmly, he asked:"How did it go?"

One question.

That was it.

I could've said a lot — about the guards, the pressure, the silence in that moment when I knew I got the shot — but I just replied:

"Clean."

Marco gave a small nod, the kind you give when confirmation isn't necessary. He took the pouch, turned, and disappeared into the back room where the developer trays were already laid out.

The door hadn't even clicked shut behind him when—

"RAAGH!"

A blur leapt from behind the shelving unit, arms flailing like a broken scarecrow, voice cracking in exaggerated menace.

I didn't flinch.

Vex stood there, grinning with the disappointment of a failed scare.

"Man, you're no fun anymore," he laughed. "I liked it better when your nerves still worked."

I rolled my eyes. "Maybe I just save my panic for real threats."

Vex plopped himself onto the stool beside the developing table and began tapping the counter rhythmically with a screwdriver he absolutely had no reason to be holding.

"So?" he asked, eyes gleaming. "You deliver the goods?"

I nodded.

He leaned in like I had just whispered a state secret.

"Did you break a sweat?"

"No."

"Any guards?"

"Six."

Vex gave an approving whistle.

"Marco thought they might be there," he said. "But it's always better to see if you'll catch it on your own."

"Was that part of the test?"

"Nah," he grinned. "But if you missed it, we'd know what still needs fixing."

He leaned back on the stool, balancing on two legs in that annoying way that only people with too much confidence or too little concern ever do.

"I gotta say," he said after a pause, "you've come far. Quieter. Faster. Don't take this the wrong way, but I thought you were gonna break after the first week."

I didn't reply.

Vex didn't need confirmation — just space to fill with his words.

And he was good at that.

Minutes passed in easy silence. The hum of the backroom's ventilator fan whirred to life.

Then the front door clicked open.

Tamber stepped in, a paper bag in each hand, and a long cylindrical drink wedged beneath his elbow.

"Lunch," he said flatly, but there was a twitch of a grin beneath his eyes.

"You bring food or peace offerings?" Vex asked.

"Yes," Tamber replied, setting the bags on the table. "Figured someone here was too lazy to eat before making trouble."

"You wound me," Vex said, clutching his chest. "Truly."

They bickered for another minute, playfully. Tamber handed me a drink. He didn't say much, but I could feel him watching me — assessing me the way you'd study a line of code for errors, except this time I didn't feel like he expected to find any.

"You know," he finally said, glancing at the backroom door, "your hands didn't shake when you took that pouch out."

I raised an eyebrow.

Tamber continued, "That only happens with two kinds of people. The ones who don't know enough to be scared. And the ones who know exactly what's coming and still choose to step forward."

He let the words hang.

I didn't say which one I was.

Maybe I wasn't sure.

We ate in silence, broken only by Vex's occasional commentary about the poor quality of the fries or the virtues of honey-based sauces. Tamber responded with unimpressed grunts.

Marco didn't return until the food was almost gone.

When he stepped out, hands clean, he didn't speak.

Just placed the developed negatives on the table.

Six perfect exposures.

Framed tightly. Clear faces. Clean lines.

Even Tamber leaned forward.

Vex gave a low whistle.

Marco didn't compliment me.

He didn't need to.