The Painters

By Beth Kander

They had never painted the place before. They wound up there years ago, unexpectedly. Got used to it. Then one day it was sleepily raining, and the walls within were just as depressing, and no one remembers who shouted “LET’S PAINT!” but suddenly there were brushes, rollers, deep green and rich mahogany hues. The walls went from drab, stained, pale half-yellow to alive. The mood went from tired and brittle to electric. Someone painted a door. "Oh," they wept with relief, "I thought we'd forgotten how!" As the thunderless rain yawned outside, they walked through the door and were gone.