Greetings in the Graveyard
Clara was in the graveyard she visited often with a camera balanced on one of the stones as she figured out the shot she was going to take. Behind her, she heard rustling in the grass. “Ah- ah- whoever you are, don’t move. You’re going to mess up my shot.”
But the moment - whatever it was she had wanted to capture - had passed and she sighed before turning around to face whoever had interrupted her.
“So who’re you then? I don’t normally see anyone else passing through here. Most people think it’s creepy.”