Golden Box Book Publishing One Picture: Thousands of Words | Page 55

The frail figure in the bed began to squirm, lifting a weak hand to
shield her face from the light. “Damn you, Mark,” Anna groaned.
“Why won’t you let me die in peace? The shawl is almost gone.”
“Oh, is it?” Mark snapped. “How would you even know that? I
found your portrait on the floor, deprived of light.”
“Don’t be so dramatic,” Anna replied, pulling her thin bones into a
sitting position. “It wasn’t on the floor. It was propped up, leaning on
the wall…”
“On the floor!” Mark interrupted. “I get it. Watching your death
grow nearer can’t be easy, but the more sunlight the painting gets, the
longer you have.”
Anna coughed and reached out her hands. Mark turned and picked
up a cup of tea he’d brought in earlier and handed it to her and then
quickly set up a bed tray for her. Anna took a sip of tea and sighed.
Placing the cup on the tray, she inquired. “The longer I have for
what? You won’t even let me search anymore.”
Mark crossed his arms in front of his chest and tapped his foot. “I
don’t want you searching anymore because it upsets you and drains
what little energy you have left.”
“Oh, my love, how considerate you are. But if I don’t find that
portrait, my time will come to an end.”
Mark stepped forward placing a saucer of biscuits on the tray and
sat next to Anna, cupping one of her feeble hands. “You don’t have
to carry this burden alone. I’ve been searching for you and I think
I’ve found something.”
Anna squeezed Mark’s hand and lifted her eyes to his. “What-
what is it, darling? What have you found?”