Constanz, the Photo Lady

You return to the rack.

The fax machine hums faintly. A single sheet sits in the tray, edges curled like a beckoning finger.

You approach your double. A faint line of drool darkens the sheet.

You step into the booth and press the receiver to your ear.

"Operant. Something big is happening, isn't it?"

As you press down on the intercom button, a little light comes on.