Flawless Minds part 1

Martin slid the paintbrush down the church wall painting the sanctuary in a bridesmaid white gloss. Up and down went the brush, each stroke covering up a patch of faded daisy yellow that once brought life to the now empty church. Behind him he could hear Robert telling him, “Up and down with the brush, straight lines, no flaws or you have to do it again.” Sometimes, thought Martin, I wish he could just leave me alone. Focusing back on his work, Martin lost himself into the low dull swish sound of the wet brush sliding over the dry wall. Hours had passed in the same routine, until the whole church sanctuary was painted the same colour, bridesmaid white.
When Martin had finished, it was Robert’s call to inspect the job of Martin. With the sanctuary dark, Robert lit a candle, and passed the light of the flame over every inch of the walls, inspecting for non straight lines, horizontal brush strokes, valleys of cracks or even lakes of dents in the wall. If this time there were no flaws, Martin could leave. The past two times that Martin had painted, Robert had found a single flaw in the job. This time; however, Robert had found not a single crack or dent, all the brush strokes were vertical and perfectly straight. The job was flawless. No spots were darker than another, no uneven painting, no bubbles. Flawless, he thought to himself, completely flawless. “Ok Martin, you may go home now.” His words pierced the silence like an arrow. Martin replied, “Thank you sir.” And picked up his tools and left silently leaving Robert standing with the candle still lit in the sanctuary staring in awe, at flawlessness.
Martin slowly walked the long route back to his apartment; today he wanted to clear his mind. The horrors of his apartment awaited him no matter what he did, but tonight he wanted to walk alone and hopefully forget about the horrors that awaited him. Walking down Main Street, he looked around at all the closed shops and wondered what do shopkeepers do after hours? Were they just like him after a long day of work looking to blow off steam? His mind was drawn out of this state as he saw his roommate running toward him, yelling, “There has been an accident, you need to come back now!!” Martin quickly picked up the pace, and soon Martin and John were running back to the apartment.
       Throwing the door open, Martin stepped in the apartment first. The place was a mess, the lamps were shattered on the floor, the couch was sliced up with the 12-inch butchers knife from the kitchen. The glass-topped coffee table was flipped over, and everything on it was thrown about. The fluff from all the pillows was floating around, books magazines and Martin’s alphabetized CD and record collection were thrown all over the apartment. Pots and pans littered the kitchen floor and the two plates, two glasses, two forks knives and spoon, as well as the two bowls that he owned laid in pieces scattered on the floor. In the bathroom, the towel rack had been removed from the wall and used as a battering ram to break the window to the outside. Blood and broken glass lay sprawled out on the bathroom tile. “She escaped Martin, she escaped. We must find her.”
       Martin spent the following day reorganizing the CDs and records, all in alphabetical order by artist. The magazines had to be placed back on the coffee table in a fan array. The couch had been moved out to the curb, and he now sat on the floor as he picked up every strand of fluff from the pillows and couch. In the kitchen, each pot and pan were organized by shape and size and hung on the hooks placed on the wall adjacent to the range top. The butcher’s knife was returned to the knife block after a cleaning. The smashed plates, bowls, and glasses found their home in the trash can. The silverware was placed carefully back in the drawer, knives pointing the same direction, forks placed directly on top of each other, spoons the same way. In the bathroom, the glass was swept into the same bag as the fluff and the broken china. Cleaning every tile, and the space between with an exact solution of twenty-five percent bleach to seventy-five percent one hundred and forty degree water, Martin returned the apartment back to normal.