#Chapter95
The Eyes Say it All
WESTLEY
AFTER AN HOUR, I walked into the address Clyve gave me. The building was a little bit old, but the space was huge. There was nothing yet to see, but this would be great in a few months.
I was happy for him that somehow he quickly moved on with his life. Cut the crap. I was hurt that he didn’t seem to care about me anymore, but this was my life now—people come and go. Those real and who cared for you were the only one who would stay, like Keene.
I pushed the door open that led the way to the studio. I let my eyes wandered. There were lightings, shelves of color-coded paint tubes, paintings on the wall, two easels on the other side. A table area with a dark couch at the corner with sketch pads, jars of pencils and paintbrushes, palettes, and two paper cups from the Steaming Cafe.
