(from a photo writing prompt of my friend Copper)
As she watched, the old photograph began to pulse and hum as though slowly coming to life. A breath more and she found herself standing behind the dusty counter of an old style general store. The man from the photo seeming to grow larger, to draw nearer.
A gust of wind passed in and through, scattering the layers of time, flooding the world's sepia tones with color. A moment later she stood there face to face with her great grandfather. Up close she could see the twinkle in his eye, the quiet quirk to the corner of his lips, as though he had heard a good joke just outside the front door from a passing neighbor and still carried the quiet laughter rumbling in his chest.