FFFC: The painting


Rose came running into the room holding a neatly wrapped package. “It’s here at last. My portrait… Well, our portrait.” She ripped the brown paper from the portrait and gazed at it for a moment in stunned silence.
“Any good?” Philip asked without looking up from his magazine.
“It think it has captured the essence of our relationship brilliantly. I look great. You appear to be doing what you do best. Ignoring everything happening and reading.”
Philip turned the page. “So, worth the money?”
Rose was speechless. “Two hours he was here. How did you pose without looking at him?”

I wrote this inspired by this week’s fandango’s flash fiction challenge. He

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