Mara scrapes her fingernail along the counter’s edge. “And you counted. Three days. That’s the part you want me to hear? Not that I’ve been barely breathing? Not that I haven’t painted in a month?”
Mara finishes a painting. It’s the first one in two years. It’s a kitchen at 2 AM. A flickering light. A dish in the sink. And two shadows that almost touch but don’t.
Currently, most cracks stem from betrayal or jealousy. Consider adding:
