Continuing on he paused in the driveway right next to the mailbox where he leaned on it. The house that Jacob lived in sat in the center of the row of...houses. It also happened to be the biggest, built for a family of at least six, but it never got to see that. Jacob looked longingly over to the flower garden where a stone cross marked the memory of his mother. A constant reminder of where everything went wrong. It reminded Jacob and his father that his birth had killed his mother overtime he. As we talked it was like talking to his father as if he had not aged a year. The two were so similar. I came to learn that he was into the arts as our talk progressed. He had sold a few paintings and was a part time manager at a local art gallery. He offered to show me one of the paintings and I of course agreed and followed him through a small hall way to a bare bed room with a bed and a few paintings on the wall. I gasped when I saw them. “They’re beautiful,” I said, my eyes scanning them. . More

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