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To Lawson
Wendell was painting the porch. The afternoon had been perfect for it and he'd set up little cones at the front door and a sign asking for people to go through the back door. No one really ever used the front door anyway, so the rerouted foot traffic hadn't been a lot.

Currently, he was finishing the tiny details of the railing, using a small brush to dab the fresh white paint into the crevices. He had smudges of white paint on his face and every time he wiped his brow, he got more paint on himself. But the job was nearly done and he'd enjoyed doing it.