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Description
               At first he thought they hadn't gone over the wall enough times – after all, a cement wall will, typically, remain green in areas that haven't been properly coated in white. But after a few weeks in the apartment, the spot began to grow. The bruise on the wall soon took over from floor to ceiling.
               It wasn't until a month after moving in that is began to look human. First it appeared like a figure on a universal bathroom sign. It evolved hands and feet. It grew fingers, fingers that seemed to claw at the wall that the figure was pressed against. Its strands of hair took the shape of cracks in the wall where there were none to be found; the delicate tendrils laced the paint only.

               Soon the silhouette started assuming different positions. The first week, she was huddled in a fetal position, cowering from the white paint surrounding her. The second – she sat at the base of the wall timidly, looking up at the ceiling, wondering what the paint would do to her but too scared to find out. The third week, she stood. She stood with her arms in the air and her fingers reaching beyond the plastered ceiling. But the fourth week she was on her knees again, praying, waiting. The fifth week she was sprawled on the wall, held by invisible means. And by the sixth week, she was gone, faded into the whitewash of his apartment.

Description
               At first he thought they hadn't gone over the wall enough times – after all, a cement wall will, typically, remain green in areas that haven't been properly coated in white. But after a few weeks in the apartment, the spot began to grow. The bruise on the wall soon took over from floor to ceiling.
               It wasn't until a month after moving in that is began to look human. First it appeared like a figure on a universal bathroom sign. It evolved hands and feet. It grew fingers, fingers that seemed to claw at the wall that the figure was pressed against. Its strands of hair took the shape of cracks in the wall where there were none to be found; the delicate tendrils laced the paint only.

               Soon the silhouette started assuming different positions. The first week, she was huddled in a fetal position, cowering from the white paint surrounding her. The second – she sat at the base of the wall timidly, looking up at the ceiling, wondering what the paint would do to her but too scared to find out. The third week, she stood. She stood with her arms in the air and her fingers reaching beyond the plastered ceiling. But the fourth week she was on her knees again, praying, waiting. The fifth week she was sprawled on the wall, held by invisible means. And by the sixth week, she was gone, faded into the whitewash of his apartment.