Shattered Glass Unbroken Soul Chapter 08
A month later, I logged back into my social media and posted my first sketch from Iceland.
My inbox had a long, unread message waiting for me.
It was from a junior student in my old art program.
*Avery, after you left, Drew and Piper had a massive blowout.*
She told me Drew quit his job. He sat in my old apartment every single day, staring at the walls.
The broken window was fixed. But he refused to let the building management rip out the blood-stained floorboards beneath the glass.
Piper visited him at first.
She brought coffee and cake, trying to cheer him up like she used to.
The student sent an audio clip.
Piper’s voice sounded artificially bright.
*”I bet you haven’t eaten anything today. Look, I bought a cinnamon latte. I know you absolutely hate the smell. Take a sip and wake yourself up.”*
The next second, a cup shattered violently against a wall.
Drew’s voice was raw and hoarse.
*”Is there anything inside your head besides making bets?”*
Piper fell dead silent.
Drew didn’t stop.
*”You ruined her competition. You ripped her bag apart. You treated her patience like a pathetic joke.”*
Piper sobbed loudly, yelling back.
*”How dare you put all the blame on me? You locked the door! You took away her pills! Don’t act like some heartbroken saint now!”*
The recording abruptly ended there.
I finished listening. Placed my phone face down on the table.
Elias walked out from behind a display panel, holding a new layout draft.
“I suggest putting this main piece on the first wall right at the entrance. But if you don’t want it to be the first thing people see, we can swap it out.”
I stared at the repainted canvas.
The girl in the painting stood in front of a sea of shattered glass. A brilliant green aurora blazed behind her.
“Leave it on the first wall.”
Elias nodded.
“Alright. Whatever you want.”
My phone buzzed again.
The student sent one final text.
*They’re still looking for your exhibition details. I don’t think they’re going to just let this go.*
I muted my phone and picked up my paintbrush.
This time, I didn’t look back.Â