I dreamt the camera was broken, but everyone kept smiling anyway

I was at a wedding I didn’t photograph—just standing in the corner, watching. The lens was cracked, fogged over, useless. But people still moved through it like they were seen. The bride laughed without being framed. The grandfather wiped his eyes and no one had to ask why. I woke up with my hands still curled around an imaginary camera, like maybe I’d been holding it too tight for too long. It wasn’t about the shot. It was about the silence after.