Winner of the Month: The Photo at Edgar's

By Alessandra Konzen

Title: The Photo at Edgar’s

Fan Fiction: Mad Honey by Jodi Picoult

Summary:

In the midst of a murder trial with her son, Asher, as the main suspect,

Olivia wanders into a local music shop owned by Lizzy, the only trans woman she knows in town. She’s not sure what she’s looking for—until a photo on the wall gives her a place to begin.

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The bell over the door jingled when I stepped into Edgar’s.

I hadn’t been inside since before... well, everything. Before the courtroom sketches. Before the

words blood spatter became part of my daily vocabulary.

Before Lily’s death.

The shop smelled like warm dust and vinyl. A single ceiling fan lazily stirred the air. I felt

suffocated by the New England summer swelter—but really, there was no solace anywhere.

I was suffocated by my thoughts too.

The only peace I found was when I could get out of my head and into my hands, taking care of the bees.

Behind the counter, a woman in a faded band tee was restocking a crate of used records. Lizzy.

She looked up, pausing.

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

Sorry Lily is dead.

Sorry my son might have done it.

So instead, I just said, “Hi.”

She studied me for a moment, then nodded—almost kindly. Maybe she knew what it was like to be watched every time you ventured into a small town.

“Looking for anything in particular?” she asked.

“No,” I said. “Just... wandering.”

I drifted between the stacks, pretending to scan album covers.

But really, I was just trying to catch my breath.

The quiet was thick as the air outside. Not heavy, exactly—but expectant. I wasn’t even sure why I’d wandered in here.

That’s when I saw it.

Framed on the back wall, a photograph—sun-faded but vibrant all the same.

Three people in wild, unapologetic makeup and towering wigs. Glittering smirks of confidence and joy spread across their faces.

I stared. The photo pulsed with defiance—and something I didn’t have a word for.

“That was Pride, 1989,” Lizzy said behind me. “New York. I took it on a disposable Kodak. Got it blown up at a drugstore in Queens.”

I turned to her. “You took this?”

She smiled. “Yeah. Back then, I mostly stayed behind the camera. It was easier to be invisible. But they... they were radiant.”

“You look like you miss them.”

“Every day,” she said quietly. “But I don’t miss that time in my life. I was still Edgar then.”

I opened my mouth, then closed it again.

There were so many things I wanted to ask, but none of them felt like mine to do so.

Instead, I nodded—hoping she could feel what I couldn’t say.

The questions flooded my brain and I didn’t know which to ask first—or if I should ask any at all.

Instead, I asked, “Did you know her?”

"Lily?” Lizzy’s voice didn’t change. “She used to come in after school.

Always pretending she didn’t know what she was looking for. But I could tell she wanted to talk. Wanted to be seen.”

I looked at the photo again. Their smiles. The freedom. The joy. It hit me, suddenly, how much of Lily’s life I’d never get to know. How much Asher would never know.

“Do you think she was scared?”

The words escaped before I could hold them back.

Lizzy exhaled slowly. “Being trans in this world is terrifying. But Lily... she was also brave.

Not in a performative way. Just in the way she walked through the door each week like she deserved to take up space.”

I nodded, throat tightening. “My son loved her. I know he did.”

“He saw her,” Lizzy said simply. “Or at least he tried to.

Lily and I talked a few times about their relationship.”

I looked back at the faces in the photograph—defiant, joyful, full of life.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I admitted. “I just... I needed somewhere honest.”

“You picked the right place,” she said.

I turned to go, but Lizzy stopped me. She walked over with a record in her hands.

“She loved this one,” she said, pressing it into mine.

I held it to my chest like a keepsake.

Outside, the sun had dipped low, the streetlights flickering on one by one.

But inside Edgar’s, the photograph remained.

Three friends. Three stories.

Lily’s story was cut short.

I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to listen to the record.

But for a moment—I felt seen.