Windsor Gallery – continued, 6:46 PM
The light over Evelyn's painting seemed brighter than the rest, like it demanded to be seen. Leon stood before it, unmoving.
The Space You Left Me.
The words echoed in his chest more than his mind. He wanted to hate the title. But he couldn't. Because she'd left that exact space in him—and now she'd painted it into the world.
He heard voices behind him. Whispers.
"She's in New York, right?"
"Is she coming back?"
"People say she turned down the Paris track just to come here. Now she's gone again?"
Everyone was talking about her.
But no one seemed to know her.
Except him.
And even then, sometimes, he wasn't sure.
Clara appeared beside him again, her arms folded.
"She makes silence loud," she said, not looking at him.
Leon finally spoke. "And me quiet."
Clara glanced at him. "Is that a good thing?"
He hesitated.
"I don't know yet."
They stood there a little too long.
Long enough for someone to take a photo of them together, probably thinking they were a couple.
Leon didn't notice.
He was still staring at a painting that looked a little too much like how he felt.
⸻
Dorm Room – 11:21 PM
Leon lay in bed, staring at the photo he'd taken of Evelyn's painting. Not her. Just her art.
It wasn't the same.
His phone buzzed.
Evelyn: How was the show?
Leon: Your painting stole the whole room.
A pause.
Evelyn: Funny. I felt invisible the whole time I painted it.
Leon: Then I guess we both were looking at ghosts.
She didn't respond after that.
But he stayed awake anyway,
just in case.