He shined his flashlight on the real crate. He stepped closer, the rubber soles of his boots squeaking against the condensation-slicked floor.
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The Polaroid lay face-up on the linoleum floor of the walk-in cooler, half-hidden beneath a pallet of rotting romaine. It was the kind of photo you don’t pick up, but Marcus did. listeria sketchy picture
From the white sludge, something rose. Not a stem. Not a leaf. It was a finger, composed entirely of mold and bacterial mat, pointing directly at him. He shined his flashlight on the real crate
The image was grainy, developed in a hurry, the colors washed out by the cold blue tint of the refrigerator lights. It showed a crate of cantaloupes. Just cantaloupes, stacked in a pyramidal display. But there was something wrong with the texture. In the photo, the rinds of the fruit seemed to glisten with an unnatural, viscous sheen, like wet skin rather than rough netting. It was the kind of photo you don’t pick up, but Marcus did