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The Tulips
I wander around the hall, inspecting each painting closely. Dull colors line cloth canvases, tints of black make up the background. A name is written in white in the bottom corner. A blue painting catches my eye. It's a sky, white spots expand over the top of the canvas. Or maybe they're ducks floating on a glassy blue lake. I want to look at something else. I move on. Bright yellows compete with the reds. Maybe they're tulips. I'll never know. Blue lines criss-cross near the bottom of the painting where the stems would be. A sugnature was written with a flourish. I sigh, shaking my head. "What a waste of paper." But looking back at it now, I wish I hadn't left my glasses at home. They could have been tulips after all.
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