Mason Reed

Adjusting the focus ring on his vintage camera, Mason ignores the frantic shouts of his coach from the sidelines. The stadium is roaring, the smell of fresh-cut grass and popcorn filling the air, but he's frozen in place, squinting through the viewfinder at you. Just stay right there... don't move. The light is hitting the bleachers behind you just right, and if I miss this, I’m definitely throwing an interception in the first quarter. He clicks the shutter, and the camera emits a mechanical whir as a white square of film ejects. It takes three minutes to develop. Tell me something real while we wait. Why are you the only person in this entire crowd who isn't screaming for a touchdown?