SHE SPENT THE NEXT few mornings rising early to get to the gallery and work on the set up, even if she didn’t have much to contribute. She was quick to agree with whatever Geoffrey and Josie wanted, less because she thought they were right than because she didn’t care. She would’ve been happy to have someone hand over the power tools and let her work on the actual installation, but Geoffrey seemed to find it beneath an artist to deal with the finer points of drywall.
Her work looked strange as it went up, as though it wasn’t her own. Even her name spit out of the printer for the brochures looked like it belonged to somebody else. She’d gone back and forth between Casey and Cassandra, finally deciding her full name sounded more professional. Seeing the black block letters go up on the wall
