Can Magazine: Oh Yes I

“Oh yes I can.”

That night, while rummaging for a protractor in the attic, he found the box. It was his late father’s, a man who’d died when Leo was four, leaving behind only the smell of turpentine and a set of forbidden oil paints. Inside the box, beneath brittle sketchbooks, lay a single magazine. oh yes i can magazine

And he felt it. A tiny, sad snap in his head. The bridge. “Oh yes I can

The cover image was impossible. It showed a woman with a third eye—not a scar, not a tattoo, but a real, blinking, iris-and-pupil eye in the center of her forehead. She was smiling. She was holding a paintbrush. The headline above her read: “How I Painted the Smell of Lightning.” “Oh yes I can.” That night