I stopped walking when I noticed something. I even had to look twice at him because his gaze was penetrating me. I peeked on his side, inside the cabin.
“My painting,” I uttered. He's living here?
He looked at his back for a second. My painting, the one he bought in the auction was there. It was hanging on the wall. It was so big that it took up a lot of space.
“I bought it. It’s mine.” His eyes continued to strike me.
It was haunting me so bad. It was very familiar. was the gaze I was in the darkest phase of my life. Should I stay and talk to him?
“This is what I was saying. Why would you buy it if you’ll just put it there?” I murmured to myself. “You can sell it if it’s just hanging around,” I said to him.
“Did you just say you’re going? Leave, then.” He used his head to motion me
