The Smoke In The Photograph by Kit Tinsley

leaving the house, the one that had told her that Steven had deserved what had happened. She tried to push the memory out of her mind, by telling herself that the voice had been her own, from inside her head. It didn't completely work and she felt goose bumps rising on her arms.
    She rubbed her arms and went over to the radiator. Bending down, she turned it up fully. The house was old and had been standing empty for a long time. It was liable to take a while to successfully warm up.
    Walking in to the kitchen she saw the tiny light blinking on the answerphone. She pressed the button and heard Wendy's voice fill the vacant room.
    'Hi, guys,' she said on the message. 'Just checking to see how moving day is going for you.'
    Julia shook her head. It was a perfectly natural question, but considering all that had happened it was the worst question. She switched on the kettle and started making herself a coffee as the message continued.
    'Obviously you're too busy to answer the phone, but give me a call back if you get the chance. Can't wait to see the house. Well, speak to you later. Bye for now.'
    As she poured the water into the cup, Julia considered phoning Wendy. She changed her mind though. If she told her that Steven was in hospital, she would be around in a shot. Julia couldn't face the company though; she just wanted to get on with unpacking. She decided she would go to the attic and start there.
    Taking the steaming cup of coffee with her, she headed up the two staircases that led up to the studio. As she wandered through the house, the chill persisted. She would have to tell Steven to check the radiators when he was well. She grabbed a cardigan from the bedroom as she passed, on the way to the second staircase.
    Once in the attic, she noticed that the window was open. It was the middle window, the one that she had seen the flash in earlier, and also the one that Steven had opened to let the pigeon out.
    Had he closed it afterwards? She felt quite sure he had, but the evidence was to the contrary. At least that helped to explain the cold in the air. If the window had been open since this afternoon, it was possible that it could have caused a draught, especially with all of the rain. Damp, cool wire could have permeated through the house, chilling the whole place.
    Walking over, she closed the window, and pulled the latch that locked it into place. Perhaps Steven had forgotten to do this. It was possible that the wind could have caught the window, if it was not shut properly, and opened it again.
    As soon as the window was shut, she began to feel warmer, though she supposed this was more of a psychological response than anything else.
    The boxes containing all of her art supplies were stacked up against the far wall, near the door to the darkroom. As she looked at them, she started to feel light headed. At first she thought it was a combination of tiredness and not eating.
    She attempted to shake off the feeling, and took a sip of her coffee, hoping this would help to liven herself up. She went over and started dragging the boxes across to the centre of the room. This would be the best place for light during the day with the sky lights above. At night, it was as good as any spot in the studio.
    Her easel was the first thing she unpacked. It was a big studio easel made by Jullian. Steven had bought it for her for their first anniversary. It was top of the range and must have set him back at least two hundred pounds. It was so much better than the previous one she had, that had been purchased from Argos and had cost her about thirty pounds.
    She put the easel together and put it in pride of place in the centre of the studio. She stood a little way from it, admiring it. It was the first time that the easel had been set up since her breakdown. Julia felt a sudden wave of optimism. Things were about to get better.  Looking at the easel standing in the middle of the room, it felt like an old friend.  A friend she had neglected