Tru Dat.

He was a renowned sculptor, and she had admired his work for ages, fantasizing about what it would be like to be able to afford him.

He admired her. The way she lived completely out of the box . . . manning the desk at the imports store with a wink and a smile.

He offered her a deal. With art in hand, he proposed that it would become all hers . . . for one kiss.  She debated . . .

For so long she had been rebuilding a life . . . after raising her daughters the boy of her youth had hightailed it out of town moving to sunny CA with his new girl.

She drew in her circle. Found a studio apartment. Found a job. Found a life. Found her photography.

. . . she declined. The price was too high to pay.

And he became more fascinated with her.

How does the story end? I’ll tell you this . . . she has the shattered pieces of her sculpture in a box, tucked away in the attic. But that’s a tale for another day.