Camera Autozone | Backup

The screen showed a child’s bedroom. A little girl in pajamas was sitting on the floor, crying, her face buried in a stuffed rabbit. Leo’s heart seized. He didn’t know this child. He didn’t know this room. But the camera was live —he could see a shadow move past the half-open door.

Leo looked at the little cracked monitor, still taped to his mirror. The image flickered, then went dark. A thin wisp of smoke curled from the cheap plastic. backup camera autozone

Installation was a disaster. The instructions were pictograms of fingerless gloves and vague arrows. By midnight, Leo had wired the camera to his left turn signal. By 1 a.m., the monitor was taped to his rearview mirror with duct tape. When he put the truck in reverse, the screen didn’t show the driveway. The screen showed a child’s bedroom

A white house with blue shutters. A swing set. A golden retriever sleeping on a porch. Leo blinked. He lived in a brick apartment building. He reversed again. The screen flickered. Now it showed a rainy city street at night. A woman in a red coat walked a small dog. He didn’t know this child