Moist fingerprints were found on slammed doors and turned faucets. His artwork was smeared. His bed was soaked as he slept. But the young artist and his persistent cough remained to haunt her. Enraged and sopping, she came one night into his studio. Brushes were snapped, paints were thrown, until her drenched fists rose to smash his latest canvas.
Paralyzed, she saw herself in airbrush and acrylic. A melancholy face emptied of life, and above the shower drain.
Copyright © 2018 by Jason H. Abbott, All Rights Reserved.
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