We all woke up Sunday morning in strange rooms filled with odd curios. Horse heads, pony statues, rock sinks, paintings of gnomes. It was little wonder that when I came upon Kris sitting on the deck he had a bit of melancholy upon him.
Then he told me about his adventures late the evening before, and soon I had a bit of melancholy upon me as well, for apparently he'd been up until just before sunset sneaking into forbidden corners of the Inn, finding his way into the restaurant well after closing, cavorting along the mountain the Inn was built into. It was during this bit of cavorting that Kris' camera tipped over on its tripod, destroying the viewfinder.
But, such is Kris' talent that it really didn't affect his shots at all, just his mood.