I close my eyes. I dip my fingers into the paint.
When I’m done with one piece of paper, I set it aside to dry.
It’s so small, just one sheet. And I’m going to need so many.
I move on to the next, and the next, and the next.
It’s a giant puzzle, and I’m making the pieces one by one.
By morning, my floor is covered with paintings.
I hide the paintings under my pool of dirty water before Mack can see them. I don’t want them to end up in the gift store, selling for twenty dollars apiece (twenty-five with frame).
These paintings are for Ruby. Every one of them.