"Is it running?" she asked, her voice crackling through cheap speakers.
The woman turned around, holding a flour-dusted rolling pin like a scepter. She laughed—a bright, infectious sound—and for a moment, she looked directly into the camera, directly at Elias.
"If this works," she said, "we’re going to be legends. Or at least, the best pie-makers in the county." The video cut to black. It was only twelve seconds long.
Three weeks later, he got a message. “That’s my mother,” it read. “And my father was the one filming. He died before he could ever finish the edit. We thought all the footage was lost when their house flooded in '05.”
"Yeah, I think so," a man’s voice answered from behind the lens. "I can't tell if the red light is on."