It had been a slow afternoon. The kind of afternoon you read about in cheap detective novels. An empty bottle sat on my desk. As empty as a Maalox bottle could be after two too many Taco Bell chalupas.
"Why?", I asked myself, knowing full well what the answer would be.
Fortunately, before I could answer myself, the door swung open. In walked trouble, Nikonista, by the look of the yellow strap hanging out of her handbag with the big, black letters N...i...k...o...n on it. Your learn to pick up on such subtleties after a few years in this business.
Suffers from an 18-year and counting film and manual focus SLR addiction. Has recently expanded into 1980's AF point and shoots. He even mixes in some digital. Definitely a sick man.