The orange glow from the fire danced on the glass baubles hanging from two trees.
‘What the hell are you doing, Callie?’
‘What does it look like I’m doing?’ Callie snapped, dropping a canvas frame onto the flames.
‘For god’s sake, Cal. Just stop.’
‘Stop! Stop? Why the fuck would I stop!’
‘Because they’re good. Because you’ve spent hours painting them. Because ...’
‘Look at it, John.’ She held up a painting of lighthouse on a rocky outcrop. ‘It’s shit. They’re all shit.’
‘Look, come back inside. Take your medicine.’
‘Fuck my medicine.’ Callie dropped the painting. ‘And fuck art.’
A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.