Mike
The gallery was almost empty now. Assistants packed up folding chairs and rolled away racks of spare lighting. The scattered guests who remained lingered in clusters near the exits, soft murmurs drifting across polished concrete floors.
But all I saw was Eloise.
She stood near the centre plinth, her slender shoulders squared despite her visible exhaustion. Her hair, pinned back elegantly earlier, now curled in wild wisps around her flushed face. She was laughing softly at something Damon said, her eyes crinkling with a brightness I hadn’t seen in months.
My chest burned.
I shifted uncomfortably, adjusting the knot of my tie. It felt too tight, choking me even as I loosened it slightly. The tailored navy suit I wore, usually a shield of quiet power in my consulting meetings, felt
