Stories in Short #12 (Capable of change)

via the Daily Prompt

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It’s morning and the snow is hidden in the shadow of the house. Everything is still, silent, piercingly so, my ears are ringing with the roar of a far-off airplane. Upstairs I know my daughter is sleeping, and in the car, my wife is jumbled on the back seat, asleep, I can see the condensation on the windows. Soon she will wake up and leave.

Underneath the porch stairs I find the pot of paint and take ten minutes trying to pry the frozen lid from the tin with a screwdriver. My fingers start to burn and the cold metal leaves red stains on my palms. I take the brush I found in the kitchen drawer and apply the turquoise paint to the door of the house.

I hear the car door slam shut, and I know she’s standing there, watching me paint. I wait for the crunch of her foot on the grass, but she stands still.

After a moment, the car door closes again, and the engine starts.

She goes.

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Capable