Jesse had a few of his earlier photos up too, the ones he’d taken when they were young. These were, in some ways, what had started it all, and she’d never gotten to see what he’d wanted so badly to capture through his lens. She saw a photograph of a vulture, its wings spread wide. He’d taken a picture of the broken chandelier, the glass glittering like a hundred fractured diamonds sprinkled across the ground. He’d taken photos of the architecture of the Woodsman house, both inside and out. She saw the white ballroom but with its faded paint a dull, dusty white and not the brilliant gleam it was now. She saw each of the rooms, empty and derelict, and she thought of how much had changed.

She got to one photograph and lingered. The light from the window made some dust particles glow, but there was something else, something by the wall near the window. “What is this?”

“You tell me what you see.”

Mira couldn’t be sure. The way of the light, the camera, she couldn’t be sure. She looked closer, reached out to touch it, but hesitated. It looked like a little black girl standing there, wearing a plain slip dress. She was barefoot. She looked young, a child, considering her stature and size in the photograph. Her face was blurry.

“You do see it, don’t you?” Jesse pushed.

“Is that a girl? Who is that? When was this taken?”

Jesse leaned against the edge of his couch, taking in the rush of Mira’s questions. “I took that photo the day we snuck onto the Woodsman property. You were outside and I was roaming through the house taking photos of each room. I got to one room and I—I don’t know. The air changed. It got colder, but I shrugged it off. I was walking around, not paying attention, and I tripped, stepping on something on the floor. I looked up and I saw the dust moving through the air and I wanted to take a photo of it. I held my camera up in the air, trying to focus, and that’s when I heard you scream. I must have clicked without noticing, taking the photo. I never knew I did, what with everything that happened—I stopped taking photos after. I never developed the roll. I put it all away and tried to forget. I left my camera and everything when I moved to Louisiana. It was years later when I found this stuff again. I was going through the house, trying to clean up everything after my uncle died, and I found all my old things. I found the camera and the film, decided what the hell, and tried to develop it, and that’s when I saw this photo, all the ones I took that day, but what could I do?”