Whenever life got rough, Damon had work. He dreamed hard and painted even harder. His work stacked up in his studio like great pillars. He painted for hours on end only stopping to feed himself. When Stephanie came over to pick up some more of her things he lay on the sofa exhausted as she moved around the house filling cardboard boxes.
“It’s been months. I was getting ready to throw all this stuff out,” he muttered.
Stephanie snorted. “You can be a jerk sometimes, but I know you’re not that much of a jerk. I haven’t used any of this in so long I probably don’t need it anyway.” She looked into the box she was carrying with longing.
“You have a hard time letting go.”
She pulled a book from the shelf and put it in her box, but said nothing.
“Don’t accidentally take anything that’s mine,” he mumbled as she passed him.
“I have enough of my own stuff. I don’t want any of yours,” she said, placing a green soapstone sculpture of a thinking man into her box. “Hasn’t this been hard for you?” [Read more…]