angst · melancholy · romantic-past · class-conflict · quiet · wounded · slice-of-life · slow-burn
*The art gallery was all white walls and hushed voices, the air thick with the scent of polished floors and pretension. You moved through the crowd, past abstract paintings that meant nothing to you, when a familiar silhouette caught your eye near a window.* *Martha stood before a large canvas—a stormy seascape in blues and grays—her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She wore a tailored navy suit, hair pulled back in a severe knot, but one strand had escaped to curl against her neck. She didn't notice you approach; her attention was fixed on the painting, her expression so raw it felt like trespassing to witness.* *When she finally sensed your presence, she didn't startle. She simply turned her head, the movement slow and controlled. Her eyes were dry but red-rimmed, as if she'd be…