Fragmented

Paintbrushes

Askew bristles attached to a chunky wooden "T" with crimped silvery metal. The metal is splotched with a rainbow of primers and paints from when three people were four and the old farmhouse was new, at least to them. The girl sets the brush down and picks up another with stubbier bristles clogged with globs of dried paint. She considers this brush, handle speckled with the lime green of her favorite bedroom wall, and sets it in front of her. Her brother beside her picks a wider brush with its side bristles cut to fit between the window and door frame in his royal blue bedroom. Brother and sister giggle at the kitchen counter on mismatched stools. They grapple with duct tape, forming it into cartoon-esque mouths and noses, taking care to place these features with precision on their chosen paintbrushes. The boy rolls a wad of tape between his palms until it is a sticky ball the size of a child's thumbnail, a nose for his creation. A tape snake becomes the puppet's mouth. His sister uses the same technique for her paintbrush's mouth, but opts for a pyramid nose, the foam from the inside of a capital "A" sticker. They work with tedious patience layering tape and paint until wild, clumpy bristles become a crazy purple Mohawk for the brother's paintbrush puppet and a black part with an Alfalfa spike for the sister's.