Tyrell pressed a tissue to the cut at the corner of his right eye. His other hand gripped the strap of his camera. He dropped his shoulder and reached for the black bag he was carrying so he could store the remains of his camera in it. He grimaced when he saw the bent angle of his two thousand dollar lens. It was shot.
He unzipped the bag and removed the lens with a press of a button and a twist. Staring down at it, he released a sigh before he dropped the bloodstained lens into a nearby trash can. It would be a little difficult to explain to the insurance adjuster that he had broken the lens upside someone’s head. Sliding the camera into the bag, he quickly zipped it and applied pressure back to the cut near his eye which was beginning to swell.
“Thank you,” he muttered to Helen.
Helen
