Carrying the camera at his side

Carrying the camera at his side, swinging it by its slender strap, he followed her to a shady spot beside the bleachers.
"Look how his neck is bent," Shari continued. "It's so awful."
"There's something definitely wrong with the camera," Greg said. He started to tell her about the snapshot he took of the new station wagon, and the snapshot of his brother Terry. But she interrupted him before he could get the words out.
"-And that picture of Michael. It showed him falling down the stairs before he even fell. It's just so strange."
"I know," Greg agreed.
"Let me see that thing," Shari said and pulled the camera from his hand. "Is there any film left?"
"I can't tell," Greg admitted. "I couldn't find a film counter or anything."
Shari examined the camera closely, rolling it over in her hands. "It doesn't say anywhere. How can you tell if it's loaded or not?"
Greg shrugged.
The baseball game got under way. The Dolphins were the visiting team. The other team, the Cardinals, jogged out to take their positions on the field.
A kid in the bleachers dropped his soda can. It hit the ground and spilled, and the kid started to cry. An old station wagon filled with teenagers cruised by, its radio blaring, its horn honking.
"Where do you put the film in?" Shari asked impatiently.



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