Chapter 13 · free to read
Nine minutes. She timed it, because timing it was easier than thinking about what she was going to do at the other end.
It was the first time in a year that he had put something down in order to have a conversation.
She had eleven months of drafts. Not one of them had a sound.
He was not cruel about it. That was the part she could not survive. He was kind, and he handed the painting back, and he was kind.
Artwork and narration generated with AI.