Vivian who had gone to dust the west wing of the mansion stood in front of the large family portrait that was hung on the spacious wall with two lamps that lit on each side in the deserted hallway. The portrait was of Mr and Mrs Carmichael with a young Leonard who had a grumpy look on his face in the painting. Her memories of her childhood had meshed into one single heap that she didn't remember when it was painted.
Taking the dry cloth she had brought along with her, she began wiping the edges while being gentle on the paint. When it came to wipe the side where Leonard stood next to his mother, she couldn't stop the warmth that began to spread on her cheeks as a small smile pulled her lips upwards thinking about the younger Leonard.
He hadn't changed, and neither had she.
