“The painting changed.”
“What do you mean?” asked the cop.
He wasn't sure.
“Do you mean it's a different painting?”
He shook his head.
“Well, then... We're off.”
That's when he saw a slight movement.
The hands. It was the hands.
The cops wouldn't believe him, he thought.
So, he threw the painting in the garbage. Too disturbing.
The neighbor across the street snatched it and placed it at the window facing the street.
Better not tell anyone, he thought, but the hands waved at him.
He didn't want to be taken to that place... again.