You can never take it back. One look at her eyes, wide as a cartoon, and her trembling hands was enough. She’d seen the anger he’d locked away and could never feel safe again.
“It’s a prophecy,” he tried. “See, like in the painting.”
He gestured at the hole his fist had made in the wall and then at the picture, the one mirroring the other. “They’re the same.”
Hoping for hidden treasure, he reached into the cavity. Silent, she shook her head. His fingers closed on nothing, and he knew the real emptiness he’d revealed was his own.