Kate's POV
The studio smelled like sawdust and fresh paint.
Three in the afternoon, late spring light slicing through the bare floor to ceiling windows, washing across plastic sheeting I still hadn't finished pulling up. Dust motes drifted in a thin haze, soft and slow, catching gold wherever the sun cut through. In the corner sat flat pack shelves still in their boxes, a stack of color swatches, two oak samples, and a couple of interior design references I'd cracked open and abandoned halfway.
I sat cross legged on the floor in front of a large sheet of drafting paper. A pencil rested between my fingers, the tip trembling a little.
Side effect of the suppressants.
After the hospital theatrics, after I'd woken up to that whole circus, one of the doctors sat me down and explained it pl
