You have to wonder what was said before she clicked. The toddler, the man, their stances non-contiguous. The first projecting suspicion, the other hostility, to the she who is absent from the scene, the she behind the camera.

The mood of a moment caught for eternity in black and blacker.

Once upon a time, Thomas Malloch thought to try his hand at writing, only to find that writing seemed mostly editing, and then that editing seemed mostly to involve taking an axe to the word count. Consequently his output and remuneration are both low. Good job he already has a pension.