Chapter 27

Varujan’s chin lifts. He inhales the air and glances around. “Portland. A fair destination for your first seam.”

“Oregon?”

“Downtown.” He nods. “I know this place. It has been many moons. Come with me.” He leads me around the front of the building, where a coffee shop is open for business. Not much of it by the looks inside the window. The aroma of fresh coffee renders me with craving.

“Back in America,” I muse.

“Will you run away?” Varujan asks with a sideways glance.

Bingo.

My dazed brain lingers somewhere on the colorless spectrum between hallucination and delusion. Is any of this really happening? I almost prefer it a delusion. Black and white. Emotionless.

Yet I can’t ignore the fact that because of Varujan, because of The Shade, my artwork has transcended. Never before has it gone viral.

Is this the price? Is this what comes next for me?