The camera costs less than a sandwich. Aino buys it from a flea-market stall, where the seller shrugs and says he has no idea where it came from. It is heavy and scratched, but the winding lever still clicks.
这台相机比一个三明治还便宜。艾诺是从跳蚤市场的一个摊位上买来的，卖家耸耸肩，说他不知道它是从哪儿来的。它又重又有划痕，不过卷片杆还能咔嗒作响。
At home, she opens the back to check the mechanism and finds a roll of film inside. The counter shows that thirty-one pictures have already been taken.
回到家，她打开后盖检查机件，发现里面有一卷胶卷。计数器显示，已经拍过三十一张了。
"After twenty years, most of it will probably be blank," the technician at the photo lab warns her. "But sometimes film surprises you."
“放了二十年，大部分恐怕都是空白的，”照相馆的技师提醒她，“不过有时候，胶卷会给你惊喜。”
Three days later, thirty-one prints lie across her kitchen table. They show a road trip that belongs to a stranger. A small blue car with a dented door. Two women laughing on a picnic blanket beside a lake. A dog asleep on a suitcase. A roadside kiosk with a handwritten sign advertising cherries.
三天后，三十一张照片铺满了她的厨房餐桌。照片里是一个陌生人的公路旅行。一辆车门凹了一块的蓝色小车。两个女人在湖边的野餐毯上大笑。一只狗睡在行李箱上。路边的一个小亭子，挂着手写的牌子，卖樱桃。
Aino cannot stop looking at them. Somebody must have been waiting for these pictures, she thinks, or at least wondering what had become of them. If the film had been lost for good, that person would never have known.
艾诺看着它们，怎么也停不下来。她想，一定有人在等着这些照片，或者至少在想它们后来怎么样了。如果这卷胶卷永远丢了，那个人就永远不会知道。
The twenty-sixth photograph is the only one with a clue. It shows a narrow street, and behind a parked bicycle, a shop sign reads "Two Bridges Pharmacy." A map search turns up exactly one pharmacy with that name, in the lakeside town of Orrin Water.
第二十六张照片是唯一的线索。照片里是一条窄街，一辆停着的自行车后面，有一块店招，写着“双桥药房”。她在地图上一搜，正好只有一家药房叫这个名字，在湖边小镇奥林沃特。
She takes the train on Saturday. The young pharmacist studies the print for a long moment. "That's our old awning," he says. "We replaced it years ago. But try the bakery across the road. The woman there remembers everything that happened before the new bridge."
星期六，她坐火车去了。年轻的药剂师端详着那张照片，看了很久。“这是我们以前的遮阳篷，”他说，“好多年前就换掉了。不过你可以去马路对面的面包店问问。那里的那位女士，对新桥修好之前发生的事样样都记得。”
The woman behind the bakery counter is white-haired and sharp-eyed. Her name is Hester, and she has barely glanced at the photograph before she laughs out loud.
面包店柜台后面的女人头发雪白，目光锐利。她叫赫斯特，刚瞥了一眼照片就大笑起来。
"That's my sister's car," she says. "I took every one of these, so I'm not in a single picture."
“这是我姐姐的车，”她说，“这些全是我拍的，所以我一张都不在里面。”
Hester explains that she lost the camera at a station the autumn after the trip. She had always assumed the film had ended up in the trash. For twenty years, she has been telling her grandchildren about the day her sister ate a whole cherry pie in the car. "They never believed me," she says, tapping the print of the kiosk. "Now I have evidence."
赫斯特解释说，旅行后的那年秋天，她把相机丢在了一个车站。她一直以为胶卷早就进了垃圾桶。二十年来，她一直跟孙辈们讲，她姐姐有一天在车里吃掉整整一个樱桃派。“他们从来不信，”她指着小亭子那张照片说，“现在我有证据了。”
Aino hands over the whole stack. When she offers the camera as well, Hester pushes it gently back across the counter.
艾诺把整叠照片都递了过去。她又提出把相机也还给她，赫斯特轻轻把它推回了柜台这边。
"Keep it," she says. "It is better in hands that are curious."
“留着吧，”她说，“它在好奇的人手里更好。”
On the train home, Aino buys a new roll from the station kiosk and loads it. She points the camera at the window, where the lake is sliding past, and winds the lever forward until it clicks.
回家的火车上，艾诺在车站的小亭子里买了一卷新胶卷，装进了相机。她把相机对着车窗，湖水正从窗外滑过，她把卷片杆往前拨，直到咔嗒一声。
