Day 56 – Hour 011"What Happens Next?"
The negatives sat on the light table, backlit and clear. Six frames. All sharp. All clean. Even the smallest details — a hand gesture, a knowing glance — were frozen mid-air, captured with a clarity that made it hard to pretend ignorance.
But if I expected fanfare, I didn't get it.
No claps. No congratulations. Not even a nod from Marco, who stood beside the table as if the photos had developed themselves.
Tamber leaned over the desk, inspecting the strips with that quiet intensity he always wore, his face unreadable. Vex stood opposite, chewing on a leftover fry, eyes scanning for something more than image quality.
I stayed a step back. Watching them watch my work.
Let them make of it what they would.
Tamber was the first to speak.
"Hmm."
That was it. Just a sound. A hum of interest. Of confirmation.
Then silence again.
They leaned in closer, not speaking — and I realized what they were doing. They weren't judging the photography.
They were judging the context.
Reading people.
Positions.
Movement.
Background figures.
They knew more than they were saying.
A lot more.
And none of it, apparently, was for me.
Vex straightened, giving a long exhale.
"That's a good take," he said. "Too good, actually."
He glanced at Marco.
"Kid might be ready."
Marco said nothing.
Tamber didn't even look up.
I stepped closer. "Do you know who that guy is?"
No one answered.
I looked between them. The silence stretched.
"You're not gonna tell me, are you?"
Vex shrugged with a grin. "Well… not yet. You know how this works."
"I don't," I said.
"That's the point," Tamber replied, coolly. "You're not one of us."
That stung more than I thought it would.
I opened my mouth to respond, but Vex cut in with a chuckle. "Come on. Don't be like that. He earned something, didn't he?"
He turned to Marco. "Why not let him in?"
Marco didn't move.
Didn't blink.
Just said:
"No."
One word.
Unshakable.
Final.
Vex raised his hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay. I tried."
I turned away slightly, pretending to check the strap on my camera bag.
It wasn't the rejection that bothered me. Not really.
It was the implication: I had done everything asked of me, and still — I was on the outside.
Maybe I always would be.
Then Marco moved.
Not a word. Just a turn toward the far wall.
He stepped behind the cluttered workbench and reached into a drawer.
Pulled out something small. Silent. Intentional.
A phone.
Not the one he used for shop orders or vendor calls.
This was older. Smaller. Sleeker.
I'd never seen it before.
He unlocked it with a swipe and tapped once.
My phone buzzed a second later.
One message.
A number.
A green checkmark beside it.
No words.
But I knew what it meant.
Marco had forwarded the results.
Whoever was watching, whoever was above this — they had received my work.
Marco looked at me.
Still no smile.
But there was no tension in his face either.
That was his version of a passing mark.
That was his way of saying, "Good enough."
The others drifted. Vex wandered over to the window, picking dust from the ledge. Tamber slumped into a chair, arms crossed.
I stood where I was, still holding my phone.
The silence stretched again.
But this time it was mine to fill.
So I asked the only thing I could.
The only thing that mattered.
"What happens next?"