Once I sensed my younger sister saw him too, I took it down and left it by the refuse bin, consigning it to scavengers or the elements, I cared not which.
A day later someone knocked at my door.
“Do you mind if I take that painting, there’s something about it…”
I leapt at the chance. “Not at all, please do.”
My sister noticed immediately it had gone.
“It’s funny,” she said, “I thought I could see Father in that painting.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said, staring at his features ingrained in the faded wallpaper where it had hung.
How hard it was to get this story out in a hundred words. Re-write after re-write, changing point of view, stripping out every spare word. So with one adjective only, I give you this week’s offering. 🙂 Thanks to the mistress of words, Rochelle, the leader of Friday Fictioneers. Stay safe, stay home, stay alive.