Chapter 37

The faraway cry of a gull echoes through his soul. A sound like glass shattering twinkles in the distance. His fingers brush the painting and come away damp, as if he has brushed over a shallow pool. He feels skin, cool, beneath the tips of his fingers, and painted eyes seem to shift until they look at him.

He must buy this painting.

* * * *

When the dreams come again, Marin doesn’t run away. Eager arms envelope him in a cold embrace. Hungry lips find his. Glass shatters as the painting falls from where he’s hung it over his bed, and he drowns in the summer love of trembling arms.

As morning dawns, all he sees are floating hair, flashing eyes, and he swims away on waves of oil and tempera.

True Or Not