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“You know the woman who comes in for her latte every morning? The stunning one with the blue eyes.”

The cat trilled in affirmation.

Ali rambled away about the events of the day. Willow purred in response, soaking up the attention as Ali busied herself with their usual routine.

She scooted the donut bed on the floor back into the path of the sun that streamed through the large windows in preparation for Willow’s evening nap. The light caught the grains in the wooden floor boards that creaked slightly beneath her feet as she moved into her kitchen. Sage green cabinets greeted her, pulling a full body exhale from her as she filled the kettle with water. Willow rested snugly in one arm, knowing her special daily treat was imminent.

In all honesty, her apartment was sparsely furnished. It made moving easier if she didn’t hold onto stuff.

Tea in hand and treat provided she made her way to her studio space. She spent most of her time in the cozy room. Her drawing desk sat pressed against the wall next to a squash armchair tucked into the corner near the window. Her easel stood where it could catch the light beaming through the glass and illuminate her work.

The rest of her day consisted of podcasts and audiobooks while she dabbled in various pigments. One of her many pairs of paint covered overalls received its fair share of new additions to the rainbow of smudges.

A thought crossed her mind. She opened her phone, pulling up the camera and moved to a sleeping Willow on the windowsill. Holding one of her multi-colored paws in her acrylic smudged hand, she snapped a photo and sent it off to Charlotte with no message. She smiled, shifting her hips back and forth in a tremor of excitement when dots appeared just before a reply came through.

Charlotte Davenport

Today 8:37PM

The artist and her muse?

Who can say which is which?

Will you show me your creation?

Perhaps you can come for a studio visit sometime.

You know… I always wanted to try modeling

After reading the confession, it was impossible to halt the mental image of Charlotte posing for a portrait. What artist wouldn’t sell their soul to paint the sculpted lines of her form?

Oh? You do have the height and bone structure for it. ;)

Will you tell me about your art tomorrow?

Ali was unaccustomed to having anyone interested in her work. It was nice, though she bet Charlotte was just being polite.

Since you asked so nicely.

Dots wiggled on the screen before delivering the next response.

I’m looking forward to it.

As am I! Goodnight, my moon!

Goodnight, Sunshine. Sweet dreams.

Ali read over their texts again, chest expanding with each pass. She ran a hand through her hair, pleased with herself for not saying anything too embarrassing. She scooped Willow up into her arms and buried her nose into soft fur, inhaling her familiar scent.

“Tomorrow is going to be a good day, Willow. I can feel it.”

5

CHARLOTTE

Charlotte’s Friday began without coffee. Step one of a work day gone awry. Ali didn’t work on Fridays, and normally she would make her own but failed to set her coffee maker the night before, as she’d been too absorbed in a good book.

Upon arrival at the office, the day soured further when the software experienced an outage. As her morning spiraled out of control, murder seemed an increasingly viable option. The events sent her into a rage only soothed when Imani used her superior people skills to motivate the developers. Charlotte despised her temper. Therapy helped improve her control over her stronger emotions and process and express them in healthier ways, but her anger still flared in times of chaos. Any time control slipped through her fingers, or her routine was disrupted without warning, her anger spiked white hot and ready to eviscerate.