Page 41 of Hot Times in Heart Falls, Vignettes Vol 3

Inside, the gallery was already half full. Coats rustled and boots squeaked and soft murmurs of appreciation floated beneath ambient music.

The first floor had been transformed into a winding series of angled walls and narrow hallways, each one holding small wonders. The wintery theme turned out to include a mix of old- and new-style paintings. Soft watercolours and dramatic oils, silent forests and snow-slick city streets. Some local, some classic.

Kevin moved slowly. Edison didn’t.

Edison bounced from painting to painting with light on his face and commentary that blended art terms with delight. “Look at the light in this one—it’s got that golden haze that screams contentment, don’t you think?” Or, “I swear this exact birch grove lived in my childhood dreams.” Then, “This guy? Painted snow the way it feels, not just how it looks. It’s sticky and hushed and alive.”

Kevin followed, not saying much. Just watching.

He didn’t have Edison’s vocabulary for brushstroke or palette, but he knew this—Edison glowed when he was excited, and not just metaphorically. His eyes got brighter. His posture taller. His laugh when something surprised him was like striking a match in a dark room.

At one small canvas depicting a train winding through mountain passes under northern lights, Edison stopped, fingers pressed dramatically to his chest. “This reminds me of a trip we took when I was twelve. I got to sit in the dome car. Everyone else was bored, but I watched snow hit the glass and thought it was magic.”

Kevin couldn’t stop himself. “You’re kind of magic.”

Edison turned to him with mock suspicion. “Was that flirting?”

“Maybe.”

“You’re out of practice.”

“Am I?”

“Definitely.”

Kevin leaned in just a little, his voice low. “That’s okay. I have a good teacher. I promise I’ll get better.”

Edison beamed at him, all dimples and glitter-soft eyeshadow.

They made their way upstairs. Fern Gabrielle stood beside a VR setup and waved them over. Her prosthesis was decorated with bright red ribbon and a shiny red bow. “Afternoon, gentlemen. You ready to walk through some magical winter dreams?”

Edison stepped forward like a kid at an amusement park. “Every day of my life.”

She slid headsets into their hands and adjusted the settings. “This program lets you move through actual landscapes used as references by the Group of Seven, and then their painting interpretations. It’s a soft-footprint kind of time travel.”

They took their places.

With the flick of a switch, Kevin was in a world of soft hush and swirling frost, beside Edison’s avatar—a flickering outline with Edison’s gestures and stance. In silence, they wandered across snowy fields, through pine forests rimmed with mist, over lakes frozen into glass.

At one point, Edison reached out—just a hand lift in real life—and in the VR world, it mirrored him perfectly.

“Would you look at that,” Edison whispered, quiet with awe. “We’re walking through brushstrokes.”

Kevin didn’t say much. He didn’t need to. Edison’s joy did the speaking for them both.

Later, out in the crisp night, Edison clutched Kevin’s arm. “That was better than expected.”

“Agreed.”

“I mean—art and VR and snowy romance?” Edison bumped his shoulder gently. “If you’d brought me a snow globe, I might’ve swooned.”

Kevin chuckled. Seems the kid this morning had been right. “Missed opportunity.”

Edison looked up at him. “But you were here. That’s what matters.”

He couldn’t stop himself. Kevin leaned in and kissed the man. Soft and tender and full of heart. Edison hummed happily, and when they pulled apart, Edison’s eyes shone like stars.

The whole drive to Edison’s, Kevin swore twinkling galaxies swirled inside the vehicle.