5
Oh my god, I can't do this.
I looked up from my tablet and let my eyes focus on the small industrial metal sculpture hanging on the door to Kat's outdoor studio. Over the last week, we'd stayed at her quaint house and I'd learned so much about her. She'd talked for hours about growing up with her parents, and what inspired her art. It was from the 1950s but well cared for. Anyone could look at it and see hints of modern among the original decor. From the smell, I knew Kat had recently touched up or completely repainted the house.
A soft chime on my phone reminded me I should be working. I glanced at the door to her studio and wondered what she was working on. The moment we arrived, she gave me the one and only house rule: no entering her working area unless invited. She'd said if anyo
