Luciiu

"You painting a bedroom, sir?" the cashier grinned at me, attempting conversation. I scratched my scalp, fingers yanking through various knots and tangles in my hair. I refused to give away my emotions, but I couldn't help it. "Yes. My ex-girlfriend's old bedroom, in fact. I'm painting it so I know yesterday is over. So I know that she's really gone, for good, this time," "Sorry to hear that, sir," he dropped the grin. I waved it off, heart leaping into my throat. "No need to apologize," I muttered. As the cashier swiped the paint brushes across the scanner, he commented, "It's awfully late to be painting." "It's awfully late for a hardw