The Painter (11)

Dorothy turned around to see Paul standing there, arms folded across his chest and his eyes shooting daggers at Aston, who ignored him, by the way.

“So I’ll call you and let you know how it goes, okay?” Aston asked while looking at Dorothy, who nodded excitedly like a kid.

Aston smiled and then replied, “Bye Dorothy, and take care of yourself.”

“Okay!. Bye Aston, and thanks for visiting. It really means a lot,” Dorothy said, as she walked him to the door.

He stopped for a moment and took a look at Paul, who was still standing in the doorway.

“And you too, Paul. It was nice to meet you,” she added, and with that, he walked out of their flat without waiting to hear Paul’s grunt of a response.

Not wanting Paul to ruin her mood, Dorothy hopped past the grumpy Paul happily to their bedroom, humming a song.

The only thing in her head was that her art was going to be at an exhibition– something she never expected to happen.

For the rest of the day, Dorothy was in high spirits humming a favor