Sunrise Kisses
I stared into it, absorbing each brush stroke and imagining myself sitting at a dock along the Seine.
“And I find you looking at that picture again,” a voice said from behind me. I spun startled to see Bastian leaning against the door frame. He was still wearing a full button-up dress shirt and slacks, but at least the top button on the shirt was undone. His eyes, blue-gray and fathomless were fixed on me.
I smiled, glancing back at the painting. “There's something about it that makes me think of Paris.”
He nodded thoughtfully before walking over and pointing to the painting further down the wall. “That one reminds me more of Paris. Yours makes me think of Cannes.”
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