Renee gets fired for saying record stores are dead, which is okay, since she was working illegally. She takes her last check to the specialty print shop and blows a year’s negatives up to poster size. She gets some scissors.
She borrows her roommate’s Kodak and sends shots of the collage to galleries. Some of them want it. She picks the one with a capitalized name and it sells, shortly, to some nonprofit CEO.
It’s enough money for now; she moves out. Staring at the taupe walls of her new apartment, she realizes she can’t remember any of the original photographs.