The late afternoon sun bathed the small Brazilian town in gold, casting long shadows over its cobbled streets. The scent of fresh bread and distant wood smoke filled the air, mixing with the damp earth left behind by a brief summer drizzle.

You adjusted the strap of your camera around your neck, your fingers lightly tracing the metal body. You had saved for months to buy it, sneaking coins into an old matchbox beneath your bed. Rosa had been the one to help you pick it out, of course. Rosa always had a way of making choices sound simple, as if the world itself bent to her will.

"Stop thinking so much," Rosa teased, flicking your forehead. "You always do that before taking a picture."