An Uninvited Brush Against Raw Concrete
Arthur swung two metal paint buckets against his denim overalls as his boots hit the sidewalk.
Beside him, Marcus matched his pace, glancing down at the paint-splattered denim. The older man pointed a thumb toward the cracked, stained wall dividing the walkway from the front yards.
Arthur set his buckets down against the curb, pulled a stiff bristle brush from his pocket, and dipped it into a can of green paint.
His arm swept across the concrete in wide, deliberate strokes. Within minutes, thick stems and broad green leaves began spreading across the gray blocks.
A side door clicked open. A young woman stepped onto the small front porch holding a white ceramic mug in both hands.
Her eyebrows pulled together as she stopped at the edge of the railing. Her gaze shifted from the fresh paint on the brickwork down to the open buckets on the ground.
Two Hours On The Clock
She leaned over the gate and asked if he knew whose property he was working on.
Arthur did not drop his brush. He turned halfway, his white beard twitching into an easy grin under his knit cap.
He held up two fingers and asked for just two hours of her morning. He told her plainly that if she disliked the work when he finished, he would scrub the stone clean himself.
The woman remained still on the walkway, both hands curled around her warm mug. She tilted her head, watching the bristles drag across the rough surface, before giving a slow nod.
Arthur turned back to the plaster. He swapped jars, dipping smaller brushes into sky blue, snow white, and vibrant ochre.
He painted towering evergreen trees framing jagged mountain ridges. Below the peaks, smooth water rippled between patches of wild lupines and daisies.
The woman stepped off the porch and walked to the curb, her knuckles loosening around her cup.
Her mouth fell open as she tilted her head back to look at the massive mountain vista towering over the pavement. Her hands came together under her chin.
The Golden Sunflowers
Arthur wiped paint from his fingers onto a rag as the woman sat down on the front steps. She shifted to the side to make space for him.
Arthur eased down onto the wooden step, resting his elbows on his knees. The woman passed him a fresh cup and pointed toward the corner of the painting.
Tall, bright sunflowers climbed right up toward the painted eaves of the house. She asked what led him to choose those specific blossoms.
Arthur stared directly at the yellow petals. He explained that his late wife had loved sunflowers above everything else.
He said he simply wanted the chance to see them every morning when he walked down the block. The young woman shifted closer, looking at the petals alongside him.
She stood up, turned toward the street, and waved both arms overhead to signal toward the neighboring houses.
A Delivery On The Front Walk
Marcus came jogging down the sidewalk, laughing as his eyes locked onto the transformed concrete facade.
Doors opened along the lane. Neighbors walked out onto their lawns, stopping short at the border of the yard to stare at the painted shoreline.
Marcus reached behind him and pulled out a hinged wooden case packed with brand-new tubes of acrylics and natural-hair brushes. He stepped forward and held the wooden box out to the older man.
Arthur drew both hands back to his chest, his mouth parting as he stared down at the rows of fresh pigment. He shook his head slowly, looking up at the circle of neighbors surrounding the steps.
Applause broke out along the sidewalk as Marcus placed the wooden kit into Arthur’s hands. Beside them, painted across the sunflowers on the stone, were the words ‘Stronger Together’ painted in neat white script.
Arthur clutched the handles of four wooden paintbrushes against his overalls, smiling into the crowd while the young woman kept one hand rested gently on his shoulder.
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