Ink Blot

Janet unlocked the door and flipped the foyer lights on. The driver brought her bags to the porch. “Ma’am, I’m scheduled to be back here at 7 am. I know that your flight delays weren’t expected. Do you want me to come later? Or, I can pick up something for you to eat and some coffee, before I come back.”

Janet said, “I’ll be fine.” She sighed, “You know, please bring a cup of coffee. I’ll need it.”

“Yes, ma’am. May I take your bags in?"

“Just put them inside. I’ll deal with them later.”

He tipped his hat, and left with her shutting the door behind him.

She shoved her bags next to the wall, and turned to go up stairs. Sitting on the baluster was a note card with a huge blue arrow on it pointing toward the kitchen. She picked up the note, and looked inside, it was blank. She knew she was expected hours ago, but her curiosity was piqued, so she headed to the kitchen.

A second blue arrow pointed toward the breakfast nook. Her husband’s easel was set up; a canvas mounted, drop cloths covered the floor. Janet flipped the light on, curiosity pulled her toward the artist’s creation.

She studied the canvas. He’d always painted so realistically; this was a huge change for him. It almost looked like an inkblot, something a shrink would show you, but she knew when she saw it exactly what is was, where they’d been.

He stumbled in, rubbing his head, trying to open both eyes at the same time. She threw her arms around him. “I love it.”

He grinned.

“Our honeymoon in Paris, it’s the Eiffel Tower at the fireworks show!”

“Nope, it’s our daughter’s temper-tantrum…. uh... Do you think we should we frame it?"

299 words