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Weekly Contest #239
“You can’t look at it directly. Well, I lie. You shouldn’t look at it directly.” The man was standing in front of a framed painting hanging in the back room of the dusty apartment. A clean sheet was artfully draped over it. “I have it covered as you see,” he continued, “it’s been inconsolable since Mrs. Shasta passed. We aren’t quite sure how to safely move it.” The movers frowned; this was not usual. But unusual was their specialty. “Is it screwed to the wall or something?” The taller one asked. “How fragile is it?” What the shorter one w...
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