Yellow Ochre- Epilogue
She wrapped the bathrobe tight and sloppily around her as she made her way into the front room and the light emanating from it into the darkness of her bedroom.
Sark was crouched beside the wall, obviously intent enough not to immediately notice her presence.
"Couldn't sleep?" she asked softly, pushing her hair behind her ears as she bent down next to him.
"You forgot to paint the trim."
The corner of her mouth turned up. "I wasn't going to paint the trim."
"It needed freshening up, and you had a can of white. Your mother," he added, sliding the brush with perfect precision along the line where the baseboard met the carpet, "always preferred a darker color."
Sydney smiled. She settled in next to him on the floor and laid her head on his shoulder, and they sat there like that—him painting, her watching him—until after the sun came up.
END (really this time)