A/N: I do not take credit for any images above. They are simply added for visual purposes.
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His heart began to hammer as soon as he saw a wet paintbrush at a corner.
He walked faster, curious about the new painting and perhaps, if the mysterious artist was still around. Before he finally turned, he smiled in excitement.
But then, his stomach dropped.
P.B wasn't there. The painting, however, was. And it had him gaping.
It was so detailed, so perfectly done. As he gazed at the girl in the painting, he felt his chest tighten.
Her eye was the most prominent part of the painting. Although it wasn't real, it was as if he could feel the emotions inside her.
It was as if he was looking at a real person, who had gone through so much pain.
Tears stung his eyes, because he was looking at a broken person. A beautifully broken person.
He sniffled as he glanced down at the small signature of P.B, shaking his head. "I'm sorry."
He wasn't sure why he apologized, but he felt the need to. Someone who hadn't been hurt couldn't have painted that.
Taking a deep breath, he turned towards the drugstore. Then, furrowed his eyebrows.
He caught a glimpse of her face before she closed the store and disappeared from his sight. Confused, he began to stride over anyway.
The lights flickered off.
He froze.
And then, he left. While the drugstore girl cried in the dark.
YOU ARE READING
Paintbrush
Short Story❝Some spoke with words. Some spoke with music. She spoke with her paintbrush and he listened. ❞ - REVIEWS: "Absolutely amazing, I just can't get enough of this series. Gives me all sorts of feels. I couldn't rate this on a scale of 1 to 10 because...
