Amina finished her drink. She didn’t spend much but after the cost of her mother’s arthritis medication, bread and juice felt like too much money. She sighed, scrolling through the secondhand cameras list, careful not to cut her thumb on the sharp edge of her severely cracked phone screen.

If she sold her camera at these prices, she could afford food and medicine for some months as she looked for employment instead of begging people on social media to see her. Hire her.

A cough came from the side. 

She turned absentmindedly then stopped to stare. It was Gloria Obioma, sitting across from her in the shopping mall. 

A large company had stolen her work, and in the lawsuit announcement, she decried the devaluing and dismissal of art and the pain it causes. Then, she announced her retirement.

Amina agreed with every word. She couldn’t believe she was retiring though. Would she ever see her again?

Amina got up and greeted her. Madame Obioma looked up, a polite smile on her face.

“Please ma, I just wanted to say thank you for all you do.” She gave a small courtesy.

The smile grew wider. She moved to do something but her phone slipped. Amina quickly caught it.

She hadn’t meant to look but…the background was a dashing yellow, coloured lines streaked in the abstract,  forming a flower.

“Art is hard to give up, isn’t it?” The look on Madame Obioma’s face was wistful.

Amina’s eyes ached with tears; all she could do was nod and agree. 

They talked about making art for just a little while. It was more than enough. Outside, the life bustling around Amina felt brand new and filled with light. She took a deep breath in and out, took out her camera, and captured it all.