As the sun faded Meg collected her specimens and carried them to her workshop. Carefully she arranged them between layers of tissue, them placed piles of books over them.
Standing back she scanned the crowed walls of her studio, its floral decorations brightened her mood. That was until she thought about Sam. If only she had pressed him when they first met. What colour he had then. Now all he could do was demand, where’s my supper, my slippers, the remote. He was not even worth pressing now. Was he? As she looked at the rickety garage wall she wondered.
Footnote: This was the original planned story for this weeks photo prompt. My earlier posting rather took over!