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48
"She wore her truth in her eyes, molded stones of love and tragedy. Freckled constellations of pleasures and pain from a life's true story."
Alvaro stared at the blooded art. The golden frame broken, with the blood splattered across every inch. The beautiful yellow flowers that were his wife's favorite bled red.
He spared no glance to the ripped documents and furniture in the room. His office was now cleaned up, although still ruined, by the people Corazon called in.
The furniture, the sofa, cabinets and tables. They were all set aside one corner in the room, ready to be thrown in dump. Except for the painting that sat on the floor, against the wall where it was formerly placed.
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