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She glanced at the door, wondering if she should come back another time. A loud shuffling followed by a thump forced her deeper into the room. What if whoever was back there neededhelp?
When she got closer to the glass, she realized it was a sliding door attached to a cube that made up a small office at the back of thespace.
She knocked. “Hello? Is everything allright?”
Another thump. Another curseword.
“You’ll have to open that yourself.” A woman’s voice, calling out from inside theoffice.
Nine reached for the handle and pulled. The door slidopen.
The room was even smaller than it looked from the outside. It was dominated by a clear acrylic desk, a pale bookcase shoved into a tiny space next to it. Books overflowed the shelves, the spines bearing a flurry of names that were vaguely familiar: Lange, Weston,Mapplethorpe.
She was looking around for the woman who’d told her to come in when she spotted a rear end merging from behind the desk, yellow fabric stretched taut across its pillowyexpanse.
“Did you call about thejob?”
It took Nina a few seconds to realize the woman was talking toher.
“Thejob?”
“It doesn’t pay much.” The woman righted herself, revealing a head of glorious natural black hair framing a cherubic face with full lips and large brown eyes that made Nina feel strangely exposed. “Can’t guarantee a certain number of hours right noweither.”
She used the desk to pull herself up from thefloor.
The woman’s unlined face had been deceptive. She was probably somewhere around Nina’s age, but where Nina was in her comfy clothes under her coat — leggings and a long sleeve T-shirt layered with a sweater — the woman in front of her was in a simple but elegant wrap dress in a brilliant shade of yellow. A simple gold chain shone around her neck, an array of colored bangles clinking on her wrists when she reached for something on thedesk.
“I’m not… I didn’t know there was a job,” Nina said. “I just heard you back here. I thought maybe you neededhelp.”
The woman moved around the office, clearly looking for something, edging around Nina and bumping up against her like they were oldfriends.
“That’s an understatement,” she muttered. “Need help, don’t have time to find help, still need help…” She sighed. “It’s my very own chicken and eggparadox.”
Nina smiled in spite of the strange situation. “Iunderstand.”
The woman stopped moving, tipping her head at Nina like she was a newly discoveredphotograph.
“What did you say your namewas?”
“I didn’t,” Nina said. She held out her hand. “But it’s Nina. NinaFontaine.”
It still felt like alie.
The woman took her hand. “Edmonia Burns. But my friends call meMoni.”
Nina nodded. “I won’t keep you. Your gallery is beautiful.” She started toleave.
“What brought you here?” The woman asked behindher.
“Just browsing,” Ninasaid.
“I mean which photograph? The big one in the window? Flowers on theGanges?”
Nina shook her head, her cheeks heating with embarrassment. She didn’t know a single thing about photographic art. “It was the little one. Thesari.”
Interest lit Edmonia’s eyes. “Really? What did you like aboutit?”
Nina drew in a breath and closed her eyes, giving herself a moment to see it again. “The movement. It made me feel…free.”
