The Vanishing Half

by Brit Bennett

He taught her the names of different lenses, showed how to hold the reflector to bounce the light. He’d been given his first camera by a man at his church—a local photographer—who’d let him borrow it once to take pictures at the picnic. The man had been so shocked by Reese’s raw talent, he gave him an old camera to play around with. Reese spent all of high school with a camera in front of his face, shooting football games and school plays and marching band practice for the yearbook. He snapped dead possums in the middle of the road, sunlight streaking through the clouds, toothless rodeo stars gripping bucking horses. He loved taking pictures of anything but himself. The camera never saw him the way he did.