Unfinished Masterpiece

1: The

ly sound that could be heard. Through the window,she could see green hills , with wildflowers scattered across the meadows. The coastal town of Evermere wa

mind ,it was unplanned. But when her grandmother passed away and left her the old art s

tick tock sound.There was scent of salt carried by the cool breeze from the beach.Shops lined the cobb

olite nods and curious glances. They recognized her face but weren't

were full of dust. The paint on the wooden door was unsealing themselves .The garden was full

re the hear

around her like an old coat. Sunlight rays reflected through the dusty windows, revealing dirty floor s

d it. She stopped breathing for a moment. It was a mural, halfway finished, but stunning. A swirl

.W

as she touched th

Wa

ak. She hadn't thought of him in yea

once. Dreamed together. Un

d returned. Or at lea

own and took a deep breat

ean. A mural to understand. And m

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tli

old supply boxes and placing them outside for fresh air.In the afternoons, she would walk in town, familiarizing ,reminding herself places she'd on

sent-full of encouragements, musings on art, and veiled references to Eli. She read them by candlelight,

-

liar

e had changed slightly-more rustic charm now, more plants in

e Matt

wner. "Well, I'll be. You look just

aintly. "I miss

r order. "She talked about you all the time. Said

own, the door o

ame a surpr

Langdon, her childhood best friend,

hey embraced. A long moment

came back," So

curator of the local gallery. She mentioned a curious mystery-someone

.

sed, but s

," Sophie said casual

ted, then nod

-

in the

ed a sealed paper placed be

were stained in blue ,I still rememb

eath c

appeared-beneath paintbrushes,

sea, but it was you

easy. But I hope it

a memory. A brushs

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Art

n buildings. Music drifted from the gazebo. Children laughed, couples dan

y was full

en she

ain

e

ed scarf fluttering behind her. The background: wa

ls in the

s taped t

leaves. And som

lery in silence, te

-

Le

orning, sh

door, a letter i

lai

ever stopped painting, but nothing ever felt whole again. I don't expect forgiveness. I just want yo

li

t again. T

o the easel and dip

single line ac

her scarf aro

d toward

times, love

mes, i

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