Chapter 3
For the next three days, Ellis worked on his second dark painting, employing every memory of the men who had used and then rejected him as the source of the angst he was putting onto the canvas. Subconsciously he knew he was recalling self-inflicted pains and not the reality of most of the situations. But it worked, giving a sharp, cheerless edge to his creation.
When he finished, he looked between the most recent painting and the moonlit woods one, and wondered if they were really how he saw the world now.
Has my getting older dimmed my amazement at how beautiful life can be?
He shivered at the idea, and yet he knew it was possible. Then he thought of Martin, who seemed so upbeat despite the tragedy he’d been through and what he’d lost. “Can he help me regain the joy I once
