The photo prompt for this week's Friday Fictioneers
|(copyright Douglas MacIlroy)|
He entered the room in the evening. He looked around trying to look at things through her eyes.
There was an artwork using delicate sea shells and pebbles. It looked beautiful to him just as it was.
But alongside lay more stones and a bigger shell. What had she planned to do with it, he tried to imagine.
She always jokingly referred to this artwork as her ‘masterpiece’. He knew she actually meant it.
The room was the way she had left it that night almost two years ago. She had wanted to work a little longer. He had insisted otherwise.
She never woke up the next morning.