“No… no…no…”

…

“I'm not going to give you the painting for free. Call the police if you want, I really don’t care. I'm not scamming people and I'm not going to cut you a deal just to prove that to you! I'm charging you for the time, material, and effort I put into my work. My craft is not something I'll just hand out cheaply.” 

I’ve had it up to here with this lady. 

It has been. 

5. 

hours. 

She just won’t stop arguing with me about the price of my products. At first I had tried to put up my award winning customer service voice and bare with it. But that went out the window about two hours ago when she said I didn’t have a heart for about the seventh time in a row. I honestly didn't think people like this actually existed but life just loves to prove me wrong… 

“Listen, I'll be willing to give you a refund if you send it back.”

…

“Yeah, no, that’s not how this is gonna work. Either you send back the painting and get a refund or you keep the - as you call it - ‘just a bunch of paint on a canvas’ and pay in full.”

…

“Goodbye.”

Did she agree? No. But I honestly couldn’t care less. She started to argue again after I gave my final offer so I hung up. I record all of my customer calls anyway if she does fulfill her threat to call the police.

The usually comforting dim lights of my apartment felt more suffocating than anything. Their warm glow glared down on my figure. The piles of unfinished paintings covered the floors, and the unwashed… everything. Came back to bite me. My face was hot and my heart was booming in my chest as I paced back and forth in front of my newest work-in-progress. It was a painting of the one person that could calm me. My beautiful wife, Ema. She was surrounded by newspaper clippings of her favorite things, and textured with shards of shattered glass barely held on the canvas by a thin layer of paint underneath them. Small flecks of red splashed on the sharper edges. Her figure was draped in a pure white silk and surrounded by textured flowers laced with gold leaf. Vibrant colors flowed on the canvas. Reds, oranges, yellows, a bit of blues. I wanted nothing more than to finish it. Her whisky eyes and radiant smile held no warmth, her hair fell at just the wrong angle. It showed none of her joy and her lips echoed no laughter… It didn't feel right yet. It just… wasn't her. 

Sighing to myself as the stress of the day weighed on me, rubbing my hands over my aching temples before dragging them down my tired face, fingers catching my deep purple eyebags briefly. Having my work slandered like that hurt more than I would care to admit. Sulking in my own self pity, I drag my exhausted from over to the old, but surprisingly comfortable couch, sweeping away stray papers when something catches my eye, stranded inside the faded dark orange cushions of the decrepit couch lay an abandoned pill bottle. Confused, I picked it up and held it to my face, my free hand scrambling for my reading glasses. Putting them on, I try to look closer at the label. It's… strange… the words are blurred together, I can't even see who it's prescribed to or what it's called… As I stared at the bottle a familiar voice sang behind me, a sound more beautiful than history’s greatest symphonies. 

“G’afternoon doll, rough call?” 

I turned and at that moment it was like all of my stress and confusion left me. My anger and anxiety washed away the moment I saw her gorgeous honey eyes. The pill bottle slipped from my grasp and rolled under the couch. Out of sight. Out of mind.

“Oh, you know, just people being people.”

She chuckled her sweet chuckle as she smiled down at me. 

“Don't I know it ~ speaking of work, how's your new piece going~”

A faint blush flitted across my face as I smirked back at her, responding in an overly exaggerated posh accent.

“Absolutely gooooorgeous daaarling~”

“Oh, you flatter me hon.”

She leaned over and gave me a single chast peck on the forehead. Combing her fingers through my tangled hair.

“It's still pretty early, is there anything you want to do love?”

Smiling, we went from dancing in the living room, to making dinner, to watching stupid funny videos on the phone. Despite its low beginning, I’d say it was a nice day, and to end it off we decided to just lay on the couch for a while. I was shoved, comfortably, into the crutch of the cushions as she laid beside me, her head in the crook of my neck holding my left hand and we laid in silence. Playing with the golden ring we shared. We hadn't been married for very long, a few months at most, but we were ready for forever, there was no need to rush; and so far, we had the perfect marriage. The small fights never lasted long and the larger ones were talked through soon after. We had the perfect marriage, even if most of our fights are about everything we own being suspiciously covered with paint…

It wasn't long until a knock sounded from the front door. Groaning with despair at the thought of moving from the comfort of my wifes embrace. I hugged her closer as she laughed at my ‘overly dramatic’ self before I sat up and climbed over her to get off. Inevitably stumbling off, landing face down on the ground, one hand still on the couch as the other sat awkwardly on my back. My, OH so loving wife just snorted to herself as she looked down at me. Utterly defeated.

“You alright down their darlin?”

“Shut up.”

She just laughed more at my response, knowing I didn't mean any harm by it. And just like that an idea came to mind, smirking, I graber her arm and off the couch she went, tumbling down and joining me on the floor, rather, landing right on top of me. She dramatically gasped and held her hand to her heart like she was offended by my actions until she broke down into giggles. Her arms caged me as she looked down, her hair slipping from behind her ear to hang so all I could see was the love of my life looking at me with such love I never thought I would get in this lifetime.

BANG BANG BANG!!

The knocking came back louder and more frantic than before as we both groaned in disappointment. And just like that, the moment was gone. Thank you, random person at the door.

“Do you have to get it?? They may leave in a second?”

Sighing to myself I reach up and run my fingers through her long silky hair, placing the strain back in place behind her ear.

“You know I have to honey, I'll be back in a second.”

“Be careful though, it's kind of late for visitors.”

“Honestly, you insult me, when am I not careful?”

“Yeah yeah, just go get the door.”

Getting up from my very comfortable spot on the floor, I went to the door as Ema went to sit back on the couch. 

BANG BANG BANG

They're persistent 

“COMING!!”

I sigh before looking through the little spyhole on the door and see Jaz. an old friend of mine from college. Confusion filling my mind I unlatched and unlocked the door, pulling the door open to see my eyes were not tricking me. Jaz stood before me dawned in a comfy gray cardigan and pair of form fitting pants. 

“Jaz? What are you doing here? It's almost midnight??”

Looking back to one of the multiple digital clocks of my apartment and confirmed it was, in fact, a quarter to midnight.

“Caroline? Oh, I'm so glad you're ok, I've been calling for over an hour!”

Rubbing the back of my head I nervously smiled at her as she glared at me.

“Im sorry Jazzy, I really don't know how I didnt get them, I've had my phone on me all day”

I took my phone out from my baggy pajama pants to show her my phone screen. No messages, no calls, nothing. She stared at my screen for a second before bringing her hand to her face, rubbing it for a moment before pushing it through her hair, pushing her short ebony hair back for a moment. She sighed and looked back up at me, her hazel eyes burning a hole in my soul and huffed.

“Fine. I guess I’ll forgive you this once.”

“Great. Why are you here?”

“Ah! Right. You missed our usual meet up. You hate to miss things so I got worried”

“Awe! You do care about me!!”

Rolling her eyes at me she stuffed her hands in her pockets. Before we could say anything else Ema called, she sounded far away. Guess she went to the restroom or something, shaking off the shiver that crawled down my spine.

“Who's at the door hon!?”

“It's just Jaz darling! I missed our meet up, that's all!”

Jaz’s face was contorted when I looked back at her. A mix of concern and confusion.

“Caroline? Are you dating again?”

What? What does she mean?? Jaz was my maid of honor at our wedding! Why would she ask if I was dating?? I awkwardly laugh as I look at her, an unsettling feeling weighing down on my shoulders.

“What are you talking about Jazzy, Im talking to Ema. Are you doing ok?”

A painful, pitiful, sorrow crossed her face as she looked at me. Her eyes softened as she stared at me in silence for a few moments as my words sunk in.

“Have you been taking your pills?”

“What are you talking about? I've never needed pills. I hardly ever even catch a cold??”

Her face contorted further and she sighed sadly, she looked down to the floor before looking back up at me. Lowly humming to herself before talking.

“So you're seeing her again?”

The more she talked the more my confusion turned to irritation. I just wanted to go to bed and sleep next to my wife, I just wanted to be able to wake up and see her peaceful face on the pillow next to mine. And right now? This was the last thing I wanted or needed.

“I really don't know what you're talking about Jaz, now if you don't mind I’m going to close this door and go to bed with My Wife. Go home Jaz.”

“No.”

“What?”

“No.”

She stared at me with a stern expression.

“I won't go, you haven't been taking your medication and it's affecting you. And while I want nothing more than to leave you thinking Ema was still here, alive and well-” she started to choke up, her eyes filling with tears, “BUT SHE NOT! SHe… She's not. She's gone Caroline… She died months ago.” tears now freely falling down her cheeks.

…

…

…

Memories of fire flickered in my mind, I held my head with trembling hands,-

“She died in a building fire at her work… Do you remember? She's not here anymore.”

-of being held back, screaming at the top of my lungs, flashed, and disappeared as soon as they came.

“No, that's not right. She's right over there! She's not gone, SHE'S NOT GONE! SHE'S RIGHT OVER THERE! SHE'S NOT GONE!!”

“Caroline…”

“YOUR JOKING WITH ME RIGHT!? THIS ISN'T FUNNY JAZ! SHE'S RIGHT OVER THERE I'M NOT CRAZY!”

“Of course you’re not crazy, you're just confu-”

Before she could finish I turned and sprinted to the living room, she wasn't there. I sprinted to the dining room, she wasn't there. The restroom. The kitchen. The balcony.

Where Is She????

I dropped down to my knees as I made it to the last room, the drawing room. Tears streamed down my face. The room was empty aside from small piles of pill bottles, cavasis thrown about, and my unfinished piece still drying on the easel. Memories just kept coming back, I didn't want them to. But all I could see was fire fire FIRE. shaking my head I looked up to the painting of my wife only to throw up. My breath caught in my throat, leaving me sputtering on the ground as footsteps sounded behind me and a hand settled on my back. Holding back my hair as I looked up at the piece with shaking eyes. There she lay, covered in white cloth, just like how she was the last time I saw her. 

And she was surrounded.

With the colors.

Of fire.