she felt nothing. There was no smile on her face, no joy, no warmth.
However, as she met the man’s eyes, the detached look crumbled, and she shed a tear just like
everyone else who visited the shop. As she saw the man’s understanding gaze, she gave him a quick
nod and dug through her purse. She took out a worn-out photo of a handsome-looking man and handed
it to him. The man stared at it for a moment, and looked at her.
“When?”
“About two years ago.”
“Why now, then? Why not earlier?”
“I couldn’t accept it. I still can’t accept it completely, but I’m trying now. I have to.”
“May I ask how?”
“Accident. He loved racing, and apparently loved it too much.”
“Any preferences?”
“No. Just like this, in this position, in these clothes.”
The man nodded, and turned to his canvas.
“Come back in 2 weeks.”
“Thanks.”
With that, the girl left, leaving the bells to jangle in the silence again.
* * *
The man was sitting in the middle of the room, concentrating in the canvas in front of him.
There were dozens of paint tubes around him, and brushes of different lengths and sizes. He would
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