The 30-Second Polaroid

Arthur bought the vintage Polaroid camera from a dusty estate sale for fifteen bucks. The seller—a twitchy old woman who smelled faintly of copper—insisted it was “already loaded” and refused to take a penny more.

When Arthur got back to his apartment, he aimed it at his kitchen island and pressed the shutter. The camera whirred, spitting out a blank square of film. As the colors slowly bloomed, Arthur frowned. In the photo, a red ceramic mug sat shattered on the tile floor.