• Vol. 04
  • Chapter 07


Behind the chair, she shook, remembering his paintbrush swiping the previously untouched leather. She loved how he made everything into art, how he took something so bland and conservative and turned it into a rebel. His death was as messy as his paintings, with no explanations or apologies. The room was full of the chaos he left behind, the only environment where she felt she could feel the world truly surrounding her.