Ficly

Polaroid

He has discovered a treasure, though he does not yet realize it; a box of polaroid pictures wedged between a dusty box of records and Aunt Bertha’s old silverware. His fingers trace the rough outline of the aged cardboard, still unsure of their discovery.
A thick layer of dust is shaken from the container as he lifts the lid. The particles cloud the air, illuminated by a thin beam of light from the cracked window.

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