I noticed the painting I bought a few weeks ago hiding in the floor of the kitchen. It was out of sight, where I wouldn't step on it, but I never got around to hanging it.
It seemed wrong to leave it there, even though the walls weren't done yet and I didn't want to further damage it by hammering in a nail. Instead, I lean it up against the wall on top of the old dresser in my room.
As I went to bed, I kept looking at it, lit up by the moon outside the window. Something about it was odd. Something about the palm trees and the colors.
Ifell asleep before I could figure out what it was.
YOU ARE READING
60 Days of Salt and Sand
Short StoryBeing published September 10th! "She wasn't floating when I found her. She wasn't exactly sinking, either... Just still. Deadly still. At least, I thought she was dead. But then I felt a pulse. And that was enough to get me to fight for her.'
