Art appreciation had never been Jonas’ thing, but he lingered by the giant graffiti wall with interest. It was bright and loud and abstract and untraditional, sticking out in a room filled with polite paintings in golden rectangular frames.
Also, it was unfinished; a burst of color, and then white nothingness.
Like me, he thought, lips pursed together in silent contemplation. He, too, stood out in a crowd. Not just because of his soldier’s frame, but also his upbringing, and the reality that he was a man who could never really be whole.
“Please tell me you actually like this,” Luella said, stepping up beside him, her hands casually tucked into the pockets of her jacket. Coming up behind her was Eli, her rather flamboyant friend and the artist responsible for the enigmatic piece of art on display.
“I’m going to take your silence as a compliment, so please…
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