Aiya [part 3]

Word leaked into town, and, on the day of his grand unveiling, a good amount of rich people arrived in their cars – much to the amazement of the poor children who’d never seen one before – to watch.

Veronni set up in the center of his street on a small platform he’d made out of planks of mismatched wood. He had five canvases on varying tables, all covered in tarps and holey quilts he’d taken from their linen closet.

“You praise me for an angelic touch,” he began in a grand, practiced voice that wavered with youth and conviction, “but all I’ve ever done for you is wrongfully blind you.”

Confused murmurs spread throughout the crowd and a few of the rich leaned forward in their car seats. No one understood. Veronni had been a Godsend to them, taking the edge off of their painful reality.

“That is why I made this: The View from My Window.” HE sauntered over to the first canvas and tugged down the ratty blanket. “Day one.”

On the canvas was the haggard face of Franny White with bruises that crawled up her cheek illuminated in the dying embers of a fire. She was crouched beneath the overhang of the leaning building adjacent Veronni’s trying to shield herself from the freezing rain.
As he went down the line, the paintings grew progressively darker, ending with the naked emaciated bodies of the Elmir children as they shivered under a broken street light. It was common knowledge that Eliza and Francis Elmir had died in a huge fire over a year prior, but everyone in their sector was too poor to take in three extra starving mouths. It was quite honestly a miracle to everyone that all three had survived for so long