The first painting cried at night. Adrian heard it just after midnight—a faint sound somewhere between weeping and wind. At first, he thought it came from the apartment above his studio. But when he lit the lamp and turned toward the canvas leaning against the wall, the sound stopped instantly. The painted woman stared back…
I woke up earlier than expected, the light slipping through my window like a quiet nudge. The day unfolded gently.…