“Fence ain’t gonna paint itself,” Farmer Wayne remined the boy. “Paid you both good money too.”
The farmer had a point, but Patrick wasn’t interested in the old man’s reasoning. His partner, his best friend vanished. A freak disappearance in unexpectedly rough creek waters. Gone in an instant.
As the farmer disappeared down the dirt road, Patrick stared at the endless line of unpainted fence. An impossible task.
Hours and an unexpected nap later, the job was done. A two coat special.
Patrick smiled. The fence had indeed painted itself. He knew his dearly departed brother wouldn’t let him down.
The Weekday One Hundred 