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Weekly Contest #106
Sam stared at the fallen painting kissing his feet, as if trying to send up an apologetic offering. It didn't mean to fall. It didn't mean for the old nail to become so rusted that it couldn't cling to the wall anymore. It didn't mean to bring back the sad memories. It didn't mean to hold the weight it did. It didn't mean to let go. It didn't mean to beat him to the fall. "Well I guess I'll get a broom," Sam said to the empty air of the perfectly poised house. It was a cute house on the outside. But the inside was uptight like a rubber band...
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