You're twelve years old. With your grandmother at the airport. Waiting. Waiting for relatives you've never met to get off of a plane. Your grandma hands you her camera and says "Be careful with this". You take the Kodak Instamatic in both hands. You think to yourself "Wow, she never lets anyone hold the camera". You smile to yourself and feel Big.
Grandma is holding a mirror up. She's trying to put more red lipstick over the layers of red lipstick. it's a ritual. She's taking her time. She says "Don't stare at me. I can't do this if you're staring at me.!"
You look away. You look out the airport window.
Up in the sky. Those clouds.... they... they... they look just like two Colonial Vipers in formation. The Cylons must be attacking. You know you have to take a picture of this. You look at grandma one more time. She's not watching. You raise the Instamatic And click off the shot.
Two weeks later you're at grandmas house for dinner. She takes out the photos from the airport. She passes them around. Your mom pulls out one photo. It's a picture of some clouds. "Who took this one?" she asks. Grandma says "Oh the camera must have gone off by itself". You ask to see it. Your mom hands it to you.
"Grandma." you ask "Can I have this one?"
"Why not?" She says. "It's just a picture of nothing"