The morning light slanted through the tall windows of Ken's top-floor studio, painting the white walls in shades of honey and gold. He stood before a massive canvas, a brush in his hand, his forearm streaked with dried paint in three different colors.
He was working on something new. Something big.
Abstract, he thought, stepping back to assess his progress. But not random. Controlled chaos. Like the city. Like my life.
The canvas was a swirl of deep blues and violent reds, with streaks of gold cutting through like lightning. He didn't know what it meant yet. He never did until it was finished.
A knock on the open door.
"Boss? You have a visitor."
Ken turned. Maya stood in the doorway, one eyebrow raised.
"Who is it?"
"Amy. She says she's your best friend and she would break down the door if you don't answer her in thirty seconds."
Ken's face broke into a grin. "Send her up. And bring two coffees, please. Actually, make it three. She's going to want a refill."
