ROBERT

SOME DAYS LATER

For the umpteenth time this afternoon, I stared blankly at the commissioned picture portrait hanging by the walls of my room, my eyes refusing to stray away.

I couldn’t at all, and even if I did, some invisible force had my eyes straying back to the beauty standing far away, with her hair strands billowing in the cool, pictured breeze.

My strawberry blonde beauty. My Renee. The thought of her once more had me closing my eyes, and I gripped the whiskey glass I ...