He never answered when she asked him why his art had turned into this. Why welding huge pieces of sheet metal into dinosaurs and giant mosquitoes and waiting for them to become perfectly rusty in the yard next to their house had become his only vehicle of artistic expression.
What was he trying to say?
When he decided to load up his creations and go install them in out of the way fields, atop abandoned railroad cars, posed as if they had naturally congregated in these unlikely spots, she thought it was kind of endearing. Quirky. Quirky was always a good quality. Who wanted a run of the mill kind of husband, a work-a-day guy, leaving with his lunchbox at seven and rolling in at five to mow the lawn, depositing his check in the bank every two weeks and going online late at night to look at houses, saving…
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