two hundred forty-three. [That's the thing about strangers.]
When Penny’s mother scolds her for being so antisocial and tells her to play with the other children, Penny sneaks a disposable Kodak into her backpack, climbs reluctantly into the car.
At the playground, Penny is bored. There is nothing interesting to take pictures of, and other children are dull. She is excited to notice the man with the camera; adults are better than children.
“That’s a nice camera,” she says. (Of course Penny’s been told not to talk to strangers, but at eleven years old, she’s learned about exceptions to rules.)
The stranger looks up, gives her a sideways smile.
At the playground, Penny is bored. There is nothing interesting to take pictures of, and other children are dull. She is excited to notice the man with the camera; adults are better than children.
“That’s a nice camera,” she says. (Of course Penny’s been told not to talk to strangers, but at eleven years old, she’s learned about exceptions to rules.)
The stranger looks up, gives her a sideways smile.