So that's what the black line represents, he says, tweaking his mustache. The announcement of our pregnancy while I was slaving over the canvas- a big black strrripe through my green.
He gestures in a practiced manner without looking at the painting, hand cupped like a bird.
His hand turns over, spreading feathers, cricks and belches, shaky stands up on his wrist and looks back down at his exposed socks.
Caw, caw.
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