"You have a meeting at ten with the gallery. I have convinced them to host your next show." Barb stood by his studio, directing his schedule for the day.
He tried to listen, but his ears only heard half of what she said. His brain was just too fried to think. At that moment, his only wish was a piece of quiet as he stood before his easel with a brush in his hand.
Everything was supposed to work his way. He already had his plans mapped out. He had the first step in motion. But could he still make the next one?
"Moving on..." Barb continued when he refused to respond. "We have to talk about your situation with Chantal."
Frankly, that was what he had been thinking all day and all night, every waking moment of his consciousness. Maybe even in his sleep, he might not remember it. But still, he believed he was dreaming it.
