Adam flipped the pad open. On every page, he was met with elegant black and white portraits. Their tone and shading was masterful; each illustration a river of coordination and patience, resulting in a well-defined, naturalistic look that rendered the subject almost perfectly. He was drawn to the eyes every time; the same eyes, beautifully expressive and filled with wonder. The eyes of a child; a baby girl.
“These are—” he started.
“Alice,” Constantine nodded.
“They’re beautiful,” Adam conceded. “She’s beautiful.”
She’s“Madison told me once that she sees Alice, every night as she goes to sleep. I suppose, in that sense, no one is ever really lost to us, are they? They’re always there, when we close our eyes.”
really“I suppose so…” he replied, distantly. He felt a unexpected pang of gu
