It was a gray painting.

The top of the painting is painted gray, probably depicting heavy, overcast clouds. The bottom is painted gray as well, likely representing a dark earth. At the boundary between the sky and the earth, something resembling a white box occupies the space. I have no knowledge of art. I’m so unfamiliar with painting that I can’t even remember if Takahashi Yuichi painted <Salmon> or <Shark>. But I understood that this painting was extremely gloomy and lonely. At first glance, it felt desolate, and as I stared at it…… it became even lonelier.

“It’s a bit scary.”

I said, and Kengo nodded silently.

The painting was in a preparatory room near the art room. The desks were moved to create space, and an easel was set up in the middle, with the horizontally long painting leaning against it. The painting was framed, and its surface was covered with a transparent sheet. This sheet is probably some kind of vinyl to protect the painting, but due to the passage of thirty years, it had yellowed overall, giving the entire painting an aged color.

“Scary, huh. I see.”

I heard a voice from the corner of the classroom. Since we entered this classroom, a tall adult with distinctive round glasses had been watching us. He was thin, with curly hair that reached his shoulders, and he wore a long jacket. He was probably a teacher, but I didn’t know him. He continued speaking without introducing himself, though I’ve never seen a teacher who introduces themselves to students.

“Scary is a very straightforward and honest impression. That’s great.”

What he meant was probably that it was a simple impression. I just nodded to him and didn’t respond, then turned to Kengo.

“It does look amazing, but it doesn’t seem to have any problems. This is a painting by Shima Taiga, right?”

“That’s right. There’s a name on the back.”

Kengo said that with a serious face, then slowly took out a book from his school bag. It was large and looked heavy. A sticker with a barcode was stuck on the cover, indicating that it was a collection from the prefectural library. Kengo opened it to the page where a bookmark was inserted.

“Now, look at this.”

Large letters read “Nicolas de Staël,” with a photo of the painting occupying most of the page. I glanced at it and understood what Kengo meant by “problem.”

“I see.”

I compared the framed painting with the one by Nicolas de Staël. “They’re the same.”

“That’s right. No matter how you look at it.”

On the book, the title of the painting is written as “The Square Fort in Antibes.” I wonder how to read it…….

“An-ti-bes?”

The man standing in the corner of the classroom smiled and said.