The late afternoon sun was dipping low, casting long streaks of orange across the coastal town. Arielle stood inside the small art studio, her sleeves rolled up and fingers stained with flecks of dried acrylic paint. The children had gone home hours ago, leaving behind the usual chaos: smudged palettes, tipped-over water cups, and a table scattered with half-finished sketches.
She’d stayed behind to clean, as always.
The newest delivery was sitting against the far wall — three unopened boxes labeled in neat block letters: Premium Canvas Boards — 24 Pack.
Another donation.
Another mysterious, nameless gift.
Arielle sighed, wiping her hands on an old rag. She’d been grateful for the supplies — they had made all the difference for the children and their little studio — but there was no d
