The Forgotten Lens
TJ was exploring the attic when he found an old leather camera case buried behind a trunk. Inside sat a vintage 35mm camera, cool and heavy in his hands. In the side pocket: a sealed canister of black and white film.
He had it developed out of curiosity.
Most of the photos were faded scenes from decades ago—streetcars, brick buildings, a foggy coastline. But the final image stopped him cold.
It was a close-up of a teenage boy, staring into the lens.
Same eyes. Same jawline. Same hair.
It wasn’t a relative. It wasn’t a trick of light.
It looked exactly like him.
TJ stared at the photo for a long time, heart thudding. Time travel? A loop? A message?
Later that night, he loaded a fresh roll of film into the camera, set the timer, and took a photo of himself—just in case it needed to be found again.