Chapter 2
641 Words
The company shuttle was already waiting outside the apartment complex the next morning.
By the time I got on, Stanley had claimed a seat in the second-to-last row.
Beside him stood a girl in a cream-colored sweater. Her long hair fell loosely over her shoulders, and her eyes curved into crescents when she smiled.
"Stanley, is this your friend?"
She smiled at me.
Stanley gave a vague nod. "Yeah."
Then he patted the empty seat beside him. "Sit here."
Faith immediately sat down next to him.
The only seat left was several rows ahead by the window. So I took it.
The entire drive, Faith never stopped talking.
"Stanley, do you think we should redesign the exterior facade?"
"Stanley, I got the color palette you adjusted for me. It looks amazing."
"Stanley, want some water? I brought extra."
Stanley answered every question patiently. His voice was softer than the one he used with me.
I leaned against the window. Outside, rolling hills and farmland drifted by. Song after song played through my earbuds.
Eventually, we arrived at Mistwood Mountain. It looked like a tourist destination still under development. There were rolling hills, a quiet lake, and several old cottages in the middle of being renovated.
The project site was one of those buildings, which would eventually become a model guesthouse.
Stanley pulled out his measuring tape and notebook. Work mode activated instantly.
Faith stayed glued to his side, handing him tools, recording measurements, and finishing his thoughts before he finished his sentences. The two of them worked together like they'd done it a hundred times.
I wandered away and sat on a large rock near the lake.
The weather was beautiful. Sunlight scattered across the water like spilled gold.
After a moment, I pulled a sketchbook from my bag. I hadn't drawn in a very long time. The pencil felt unfamiliar in my hand.
I started with the mountains in the distance. Then the reeds along the shoreline.
A few strokes later, I stopped. What exactly was I drawing?
Before coming here, I'd thought maybe this trip would inspire me. Maybe I'd finally create something again. But sitting here now, I suddenly felt lost.
Who was this drawing even for?
I used to draw for myself.
Then I drew for Stanley, adjusting colors, revising designs, and creating renderings for his projects.
Eventually, I stopped drawing altogether. Day after day, I sat in front of a computer screen, sampling colors with an eyedropper tool and fine-tuning them on a color wheel, working like a machine built for color correction and nothing else.
I looked down at the unfinished lines on the page and almost laughed.
"That's really good." A voice interrupted my thoughts.
I looked up to find a young man standing in front of me. He wore glasses and a work jacket, a notebook tucked under one arm.
He smiled. "I'm Stanley's coworker, Marshall Reed. You're his girlfriend?"
"Yeah."
"Your perspective work is impressive. Did you study art?"
"I spent a few years at an art academy."
"A few years? Why'd you stop?"
I closed the sketchbook. "I just did."
To his credit, Marshall didn't push. Instead, he reached into his backpack and held out a chocolate bar.
"Here. Something sweet. We've still got another location to visit this afternoon."
"Thanks."
In the distance, Stanley and Faith stood together on the second-floor terrace of the old building.
Faith leaned over the railing, looking down at the lake below. Stanley stood behind her. One hand resting on the railing. The other pointing toward the mountains as he explained something.
A gust of wind lifted Faith's hair. It brushed against his arm.
He didn't move away.
Marshall followed my gaze, seeing exactly what I was looking at. But he didn't say a word.
After a moment, he simply stood up and walked away.
- Writer
