Violets and Ash
There was something about them that caught my interest and as I looked closer, I realized what it was.
They were paintings, each one a self-portrait. Some were more abstract than others, but it was clear they were all of the same person. It was Evelyn, only she appeared to be younger and without her scar, her eyes full of light and laughter—
It was Violet.
The paintings were of Violet.
“Xavier, you’re back already?” Her head tipped to the side, a smile lifting her face, but it quickly began to falter. “Did time slip by me again? How long has it been? I can’t seem to remember.”
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