Perspectives IX: Twilight Room

He watched her toss her hair and revolve herself out. He blinked. Young people these days, he shook his head. Taking his film out of the casette, he went about developing it. The things they did, he thought pottering about the dark room. His daughter was singing to his plants. Plants!!! More head-shaking. Weirdly, the plants seemed to be growing much better now. The orchids were blooming. Out of season. Probably a coincidence. He didn't believe there was any correlation, of course. Definitely not! He shook his head firmly to himself. If only his daughter could get his blots to turn out perfectly, though. He sighed. It had been a month since he'd got a good blot. All cloudy, no data could be recovered. He felt depressed just thinking about it. Through the baffled depression, an embarrassed thought crept into his brain, hunching its shoulders, pretending to not be there. He turned the spotlight on it grimly, examining it, flinching at its daring in entering his mind. Tsk! He was a scientist!! He didn't believe things like this. Of course, dancing didn't make blots look cleaner! The idea! The dancing girl was just mad. And young. Sometimes, he thought they were both the same, anyway. He firmly turned his back on the thought, transferring the piece of film to the fixer. But it lurked, tempting him, saying just maybe, saying why don't we give it a shot. Pshaw. What idiocy! He took the film out to dry, frowning. Compulsively, without warning, in spite of himself, his legs did a little two-step. He stopped quickly, looking around furtively in embarrassment. Imagining grad students in the shadows. He found himself smiling foolishly as he removed the film from the dryer, feeling a little sheepish but curiously light. He looked at his blot as he left the darkroom. It was beautiful. Just perfect. Clear as daylight. Distinct bands. He chuckled.

Hmm, he thought in mid-chuckle. Did *everyone* dance in the darkroom?