The Memory Painter

Maggie gushed, “You totally met someone. Say no more.” Turning to leave, she noticed all the books. “Wow, you know Greek?”

Linz nodded, glowering at the incriminating evidence. “A little,” she admitted and shoved the books into her bottom desk drawer. She forced Bryan from her thoughts and got back to work.

*

When Linz arrived home ten hours later, all thought of work fled her mind. A wrapped canvas was propped against the door with a little card taped to the top: A gift to a fellow dreamer. Call me.

Linz unwrapped the painting in disbelief and brought her hands to her face with a gasp. It was too much. Reaching out to touch the canvas, not caring that she was still in the hall, she sank to the floor and began to cry.

It was the painting of Origenes and Juliana. Bryan had given it to her.

*

The last box was marked “wedding,” and a photo album rested on top. Underneath were stacks of Super 8 film and an old projector. Without hesitation, Bryan sat on the storage room floor and took the photo album out.