Time continued to pass as both focused on their respective canvases.
The clock on the wall already marked almost 11:00 PM, but neither Sheila nor Benjamin seemed willing to stop.
The atmosphere in the gallery was quiet, broken only by the occasional advice from the older man and the soft sound of brushes sliding across the canvas.
The rain, which had decreased a bit in intensity, made for good accompaniment to this moment.
Sheila, immersed in her task, began to feel that she needed a more solitary space to concentrate. Without saying a word, she grabbed her painting and moved to a corner farther away from where Benjamin was.
She simply wanted to be completely alone with her thoughts and her art.
Benjamin looked up, surprised to see the change, noticing how Treit was getting her hands stained with paint, but also realizing that she didn't care about that at all.
