Click. A sound so distinct. Short. Solid. Unyielding. Clipping the air with so much finality. It can freeze time. Or a moment. Or a face. In black and white. Or in colour.

Once I shot a man outside a pub. He came out and found it raining. He took a drag on his cigarette and I squeezed. Then he ducked inside again. It happened fast. Five seconds, tops. That was years ago.

Yesterday I stumbled on the photo again. The smoke from his cigarette still hanging in midair. Click.