“Beautiful, Madison,” twenty-five year-old Faith Williams snapped her ninety-sixth picture of the day. The lighting was perfect, giving just the right amount of shadow on the young model's face to capture the mood the photographer was looking for. “Turn your head just a fraction to the right.” Another snap and Faith lowered her camera. “Take ten, everyone.”
As her crew dispersed to do whatever it was they did on their breaks, Faith turned towards the tent she'd had set up a few feet away from where she was shooting. The sun was shifting from morning to afternoon and she wanted to switch lenses to capture a new tone with the next set of shots. Unlike many others in her field who'd decided to follow the trend of digital photography, Faith preferred to keep things classic. Many of her colleagues called it old-fashioned or archaic, preferring to allow the technology to automatically adjust for lighting and focus. Faith, however, treated even the most mundane of shoots with an artist's eye. It was how she saw the world. It always had been.
Every other person on The Oracle staff was a 'serious journalist,' their degrees ranging from general English to journalism to writing. While they spent their time crafting prose, Faith was the visionary. She'd graduated with a degree in photography art, but credited her keen eye to childhood and adolescent obsession with pictures. She'd always wanted to know what story each picture told.
Faith wiped the back of her hand across her forehead. June in Chattanooga, Tennessee, was always warm, but today was particularly hot. Her milk chocolate skin glistened with sweat and she was grateful she'd kept her black hair short rather than letting her mother talk her into growing it out for cornrows. They were nice, but just made her hotter, literally, not figuratively.
“Faith,” her new assistant – Harper, maybe? - handed her a bottle of water. That was another way she was different from the others at the magazine. She was far too young to be called 'Miss Williams' by a college student just a few years younger than she.
“Thanks,” she took a gulp of the cold liquid and let it chill her body. She turned back towards the venue she'd selected. Picturesque. That had been the word she'd used to describe it, and it was still true, but she couldn't quite help but feel that something was missing. Her shots of Madison would be perfect for the piece on new beauty trends, but she was still stuck for the cover shot. She had nearly a hundred shots she could choose from, but not a single one was striking her as good enough for the cover.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a familiar ringtone. She glanced at her watch as she pulled her phone out of her pocket. Before she answered it, she called out to her assistant. “Tell everyone ten more minutes.” She didn't wait for Harper's response as she slid her finger across the bottom of her phone. “Hello, Mama.”
“Did I catch you at a bad time, Baby Girl?” Faith's mother, Ester Kline-Williams was smiling. Even though Faith couldn't see her, she knew what expression would be on her mother's face because Ester was always smiling, even when things were at their worst.
“No, Mama.” As always, Faith couldn't help but smile in response. “I'm on a break. Besides, you know that I always have time to talk to you.”
“That's sweet, Baby Girl, but I don't want you getting in trouble just to talk to me,” Ester chided.
The banter was easy, familiar. They went through some form of it each time they talked while Faith was at work. When she was at home, they had a different patter. No matter what news they had to share, it always waited until after their routine. When she was younger, it had been Faith and Ester's way of checking in without having to come out and ask the tough questions. Now, it was just comforting habit.
“Mama, it's no trouble,” Faith concluded the exchange and then asked. “How are you?”
“I'm doing fine,” Ester
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