Mark looked down at the hunk of metal in his hands. But to him, it wasn't just a hunk of metal. It was beautiful. With it, he was going to capture everything. Every last moment. This was a newer model of his old camera. Once Mark had found out Collins and Roger had AIDS, he wanted to film everything. So he could remember it all. The best days of his life.
Everyone thought he loved his camera. But he didn't. He loved what he could do with it. He adored having those solid memories, forever flickering in close up. Mark never forgot anything, but in the off chance that he did, he wanted to have something to remind him. Remind him of the good old days, of his friends, his true family. Not the family in Scarsdale, the people he was never good enough for. His family in Alphabet City. Roger, Collins, Angel, Maureen, Mimi, and Joanne.
"You really love that thing, don't you?" Collins asked Mark. The filmmaker hadn't realized that he'd been staring at it for over five minutes.
When Mark didn't answer, Angel did for him. "I think he loves what he can do with it, the memories it creates and saves for him."
That part of Angel always freaked Mark out, in a good way. How she could see right through him, read him. "Uhh…" was all he said.
"Nah," Collins laughed. "The camera is like his girlfriend, his baby."
Angel laughed along good heartedly, but winked at Mark.
"Come on, say it," Collins teased. "Say what you're feeling."
What Mark was feeling was that he needed to capture this moment on film. But instead, for the sake of giving his friends a laugh, he looked down with mocked love at his camera, and said, "I love you." Then he looked up at the group of bohemians surrounding him, they were all laughing. "I love you guys," he whispered, so no one could hear. Maybe he did love his camera, but he loved his friends a hell of a lot more.