The image is on the film

The snow falls, lazy and scattered, cold and feather-like. The sun looks nothing like the sun this morning, a pale disk dark enough to stare at without burning my eyes. Gone within minutes. Swallowed by the gray.

There's a disposable camera in my coat pocket—a Fujifilm QuickSnap. A gift. I've forgotten what's on it. Don't know where I'll get the film developed. No sense of what anything will look like. Haphazard and clumsy, most likely. A return to childhood randomness. Point, shoot, refuse to think. I do this now and immediately forget.

Watson catches a scent and stops and I turn to see a bird lift off. The shape isn't right and I realize it's a bird of prey, with a small animal caught in its claws.

We watch for a moment.
Then head home.