Mary woke up early in the morning and got dressed. The sun hadn't quite come over the horizon yet. She was always up this early. There were things that needed to be done before she could start her work. She brushed her teeth and combed her hair before starting breakfast. It was her everyday ritual. Sometimes she wished she or James would wake up late, just for the rush. There hadn't been much excitement in her life since she'd developed that bad cough a year back. James offered to take her to the doctor to check it out but she said no. She figured her immune system had become weak to viruses. It wasn't a big deal. Cough medicine every now and then calmed it down for a while.

Mary felt James's arms wrap around her shoulders. He kissed her cheek and said, "What're you making?"

"Thought I'd make some French toast," she told him. "Was there something specific you wanted?"

"No. Whatever you fix is fine." He walked out of the kitchen, leaving her alone with the sizzling butter. In half an hour he'd be on his way to work and the empty house would taunt her until she got lost in her paintings. Mostly she painted landscapes or buildings but every now and then she'd paint a person. Once she did one of a baby she saw a picture of in a magazine. When she showed it to James he said it looked good but she knew he was disappointed. It wasn't the quality of the painting; it was the picture itself. She figured it might upset him. She was too weak to have children. They considered adopting once but the subject was never brought up again.

After he'd eaten and showered, James kissed Mary goodbye before taking off. It was time for her to get to work. First she'd need an inspiration. There wasn't one in the house so she packed her supplies up and took a walk. Both her and James grew up in this town. They'd met in high school. She was the quiet, shy type. He didn't say much to you until you got to know him. They knew each other's names but never really spoke until their junior year. She was painting in the art room when he came in. She was working on a picture of the Lake View Hotel. She found a photo of it in a magazine and instantly felt she needed to capture it's beauty with oil paints and brushes.

"That's really nice," James had said, scaring her. She was lucky she didn't smear her work. "I mean, it looks like the picture."

"Thank you," she said quietly. She turned away trying to hide her flushed face. James stood there watching her. She couldn't work when people did that. "Are you coming in this class?"

"No. I'm supposed to get some paper for Advanced Biology. We have to sketch out a picture of an animal we have to dissect and label the parts."

"That's so sad. How could anyone do that?"

"Well it IS already dead."

"I know but still... I wouldn't want anyone cutting MY body up."

"Oh. ... Guess I never thought about it. ... Sorry."

"It's okay. That's just my opinion." He still stood there. "Do you need help finding it?"

He said, "I'm sorry."

"The paper."

"Oh. ... No, I can get it." He walked off and she felt more comfortable. He just lingered around for five minutes looking at things. Obviously he didn't know what he was doing. She got up and gave him some paper. "Uh, thanks." After that he started talking to her regularly in class. She couldn't believe how fast he warmed up to her. She was still kind of afraid to talk to him. Not long later though they were dating. They did a lot together. They had nothing to worry about. But that was a while ago. Now they had to pay bills, buy food, clothes and other necessities.

Mary stopped at an art store on her way. She was out of paint boards. The woman that worked there, Cathy Anderson, is heavyset but with a wonderful personality. She's always so enthusiastic about Mary's paintings. Mary picked up what she needed and laid it out on the counter. "What are you going to paint today, Mary?" Cathy asked.

"I haven't decided yet. I'm on my way to look for an inspiration," she said.

"Let me know when you get something done."

"I will. Thank you," she choked out. Once it started, she couldn't stop it. A persistent pain grabbed hold of her longs with each cough. She could only nod when Cathy asked if she was okay.

"Do you need some water, dear?"

"That'd be nice please." Cathy got her a glass of water. The cool liquid soothed her throat but not her cough. However she was able to hold it until she got outside then the fits started again. Once it finally subsided, she kept on her way. She came to the church where her and James were married. She remembered she'd been so nervous yet so happy at the same time. She figured she was living the dream every girl wanted. As she walked down the aisle, she saw a smile spread across James's face. She couldn't remember where they spent their honeymoon. But for their third anniversary, she begged him to take her to Silent Hill. For some reason, when she heard about it, she felt like she had to go there. You don't get feelings like that very often and she didn't want to ignore it. Now, Silent Hill was her favorite place. She painted every photo of it she had taken there.

Mary passed the church and pressed on. She walked until she reached an area where the trees surrounded a small river that ran under a bridge in town. It didn't take long to set up her things. She stayed for hours, carefully painting out each detail around her. Eventually she lost track of time and it got late. She had to pack up and go home. James was probably wondering where she went off to. "Where've you been?" he asked when she came through the door.

"I was painting by the river," she told him. Her body felt exhausted and it wasn't even that long of a walk. She collapsed on the couch.

"Do you want me to cook tonight?"

"Would you?" He nodded and left the room. It was hard to get up and go to the table but she managed. She brushed her teeth early and was in bed an hour before James. He kissed her forehead after he got settled. He kissed her a few more times on the lips. She knew what was on his mind. When she said, "James, I can't," he turned away from her and went to sleep. She was alone in the dark.

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