Bab 121: Past - 61

Paul sat in front of the fireplace in his study and watched the flames dance. They cracked and popped, sending sparks deep into the hearth. The countryside was covered in fog from the lingering winter.

Sunshine was rare there.

His decanter of brandy sat beside her on the table, and he poured another glass, putting herself into a deeper stupor with every drink. The brandy was aged and fine, the best he had ever tasted. Each bottle cost a fortune, but he had refused to drink anything else.

That brandy was his only friend after Ema.

He stared at the paintings on the wall, the originals that were made just for him. They showed the lush countryside, the hills that led to the sun peering over the horizon. Houses made of cobblestones appeared in the distance, ancient as time itself.

The paintings used to make him happy. Now they were just making him feel miserable.

A soft knock sounded on the door.