Framed

Six Months Earlier…

Reflection Loop again.
Similar trees. Similar sign. Only this time, it was backward.

I wasn’t sure if I was already there, or if the trail spun up around me.
My feet moved like they had been there and knew the way. I know I didn’t.

Light was wrong.
Noon light but to low, not dusk to flat for that.
But it wasn’t light that stopped me.

It was the air.
It remembered something that I didn’t.

The tripod was there again. Half-sunk. Same position. Same shadow.
No camera.
But I knew there would be.

I turned around.
It was behind me now.
Mounted. A Canon. My model.
But I hadn’t brought it.

I reached out.
The shutter button was warm. Used.
When I pressed it—

Error.

No photo taken.

I tried again.
Same error.

Then the screen blinked.

One image.
Already saved.

The same shot I was trying to take.

I hadn’t lifted the camera yet.

Behind me, leaves cracked.
I didn’t look.
Didn’t have to.

I raised the lens again.

Another error.

The screen blinked again.
Now there were two photos.
Identical.
I hadn’t touched the button.

A hand reached into the frame.

Mine.

It couldn’t be mine.

Same jacket. Same arm hair. Same camera strap bite across the wrist.
But I was looking at it from the side. From outside myself.

The hand pressed the button.

Click.

Not mechanical.
Flesh.

It snapped its fingers.

I stepped back.

It stayed there.

Watching me with my own arm.

The camera fired again.

No sound. Just the result.
Now three images.
Same moment. Slightly shifted.
Like a memory trying to stabilize.

I dropped the camera.
It didn’t fall.

I turned.

There was no trail anymore.

Only signs.

Dozens of them.
Each one read:
Reflection Loop.
But none pointed the same way.