The Phoenix Artist

my skin, a warm contrast to the

fiancé, sque

arah?" he asked, his v

steady and calm, ever

smile on my face.

o art show. Back

wasn't l

rs since I fled that c

on my phone, a

ir Embroiled i

Vand

me, a quick

aught for j

et it ou

recognized artist, e

Ethan's world, w

d the n

ak. It bent, just a lit

dinner plans, his voi

n us, on the life I

w York

it, the

almost ready for my exhib

cket. My grandmother' s lock

smell of paint and new b

self, it pulled

tential memory, a whisper of

supposed to

, on my o

y felt heav

n, it lingered. A f

hed i

work

silience, about hid

ng proof o

I told

t a small, struggling coffee shop in Brookly

me place, but it

elentless, just

r then too, but a

serving coffee to people with d

ile, tucked away in a c

alley behind t

huddle

oodied. D

s wide with a fea

he' d whispered, whe

ging, the pol

ne

ing. No ID,

n his back and the

led the authoriti

aw panic, the u

an being, s

ith me,

m to my t

insane t

looked

e the n

t L

it fel

eo" and I built a worl

allpaper, simple j

struction, his hands

ll gallery for me, a place

a quiet, st

s, "S.M.", tattoo

rmanent de

voice rough with emotion, his eyes shining w

r, struggling, but

shared vulnerability,

A face in a crowd

of someone he did

shed back into h

the kind cons

than Van

w York real e

ft was

ing cheap takeout on

e city lights spread out like a carpet of fallen stars

l him Ethan now – tried t

had walls, h

l was Victor

mo

yes that assessed and dismi

An unacceptable detour in her

with shouts, but with a chilling pol

ve he'd known as Leo and the crushing weigh

Leo flickere

ant, burdened by obligati

on. Daughter of a rival-tur

engagement. Essential fo

him. His family l

leeting moments when Leo' s eye

erbilt, the he

d me money. Two

r smile never reaching her eyes. "For

at' s what I

take it.

l clung to th

ring happened at the Van

gned for my

Victoria' s subtle, approv