The Ray Of Sunshine

People walk past us. Some glance, others outright stare. Maybe they're curious, maybe just nosy. Either way, I can feel their eyes on us—on me. On Felix, maybe more.

He doesn't say anything at first, just leans slightly closer like he's shielding me from the world. Then he speaks, voice casual and low, almost lazy.

"Don't mind them," he says. "They'll stare at anything."

I nod, still hunched a little over my canvas. My brush is loaded with burnt sienna, ready for the final details, but the paint's already starting to dry in the afternoon sun. I press a quick highlight into the edge of it before dipping the brush in water and wiping it on the cloth beside me.

Felix watches for a moment, silent again. Then he speaks up, tilting his head toward the trees behind us. "Wanna move somewhere more private? I know a spot."

"Wait," I murmur. "I need to clean up first. Let the paint dry a bit."