I figured out what kept bothering me with the painting. In fact, I was almost asleep, thinking more about school and listening to another lecture I recorded when it came to me.
By the time the recording ended, I was wondering what was going to happen with Emma. I mean, her condition hadn't really changed. And it had been over a month.
My eyes were drooping shut, the twilight barely snaking its way past the curtains and hitting the painting of palm trees. I guess that's why it came to me—because I was thinking of her.
Just as I fell asleep, the thought went through my head: That's one of Emma's paintings.
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.'
