The dawn didn't break so much as it bled into the room. I had been awake for hours. My eyes were sore, the skin around them tight and dry from the last night’s tears, but the rest of me felt hollow. I slid out of the bed at 5:00 AM. I didn't check the hallway to see if August had returned. I dressed in a pair of old, oil-stained jeans and a black turtleneck, pulled my hair into a messy, utilitarian knot, and grabbed my tote bag.By the time the sun was high enough to cast shadows, I was already at the Ashford Gallery. I didn't go to my office. I went straight to the studio space in the back, a room with soaring ceilings and a single, massive skylight. I dragged a fresh, six-foot canvas onto the easel. I dipped a wide palette knife into a glob of titanium white and slate grey and attacked the fabric.I painted the Ferris wheel. But it wasn't the glowing, romantic icon from the park. It was a circle of silver thorns trapped behind a layer of fractured glass. I worked till my hea
Last Updated : 2026-05-11
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