A Year

**1 Week Later**

I crinkly my nose at the dried paint under my fingernails, then scratch the skin of my palm where I have a streak of blue paint. I swipe at my face and sigh when I realize I just dirtied my cheek.

The air in my room smells faintly of paint and canvas. The tip of my brush moves slowly, carefully, as I blend the shades of shadow around my grandfather’s eyes.

Corinne gave me enough