“Yes.” He answered softly, almost afraid she would disappear again if he spoke too loudly.
“They’re amazing.” Meg found herself unable to look away from his work. She’d never known he was so talented. There was apparently a lot she didn’t know about Mark.
“They don’t do you justice.” Mark lowered his gaze to the floor, feeling slightly vulnerable by having his work observed like this. It seemed as though his soul was being bared before her. Maybe it was. Maybe it was time. “I read some of your poetry the other day. I hope that’s alright. It fell out of a folder when I was cleaning up at your apartment. It was good, disturbing in a dark, depressed kind of way, but very good.”
“You liked it?” She never let anyone read her poetry, so she wasn’t used to getting any feedback, positive or oth
