Page 134 of Chalk Outline
I rarely look back at my past work. Still, this sketchbook holds a special place in my heart. It was a gift from Koy that I received on my eighteenth birthday. That silly man told me it wasn’t much, but to me, it was plenty. I can’t even remember what I drew inside because I only used it on special occasions.
He turns the sketchbook around, lining it up with his throat tattoo, and that’s when the words dissolve, leaving me speechless before him.
The moth I sketched for him.
“How?”
“I had a picture of it for years,” he says. “You remember how you wanted a matching tattoo when we married? Well, it looks like we both ended up with a moth tattoo, and we even picked the same spot, even though we couldn’t see each other at the time.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“I can see that,” he smiles. “You had dozens of moth sketches taped to the wall when you were in college, but you made that one for me.”
For his birthday, the matching shirts...I chuckle at the sweet memory.
“Coincidence or destiny?” I ask.
“Both. Neither. Maybe it’s just love or intuition. It drives us all crazy, and it gives us superpowers.”
My heart skips a beat, and a soft laugh escapes my lips. He cradles my face in his hands, pulls me closer, and I am quickly pressed against his chest.
I love how our bodies fit together.
“Now, run.”
Chapter twenty-seven
Winona Bishop
Running Up That Hill — Kate Bush
I dash through the tall wrought-iron gate.
My eyes widen at the sight of large red tents and enchanting fairy lights. The sweet aroma of cotton candy and salty popcorn mingles with the crisp air.
Thick fog cloaks the circus beautifully, adding a layer of mystery and thrill to the already dark atmosphere. I zoom in on an enchanting carousel with dark cresting, gilded poles, and a circle of red neon lights above wooden horses, each painted in vibrant hues of cerulean and crimson.
The night brings this place to life and makes it exactly what it’s meant to be—eerie.
My bodyguard calls my name as I pass a ticket booth and a few vendors. The crowds still wait in the open area between the tents, cheering loudly and chatting.
The roar of engines vibrates against my shoes, spiking my heart rate. I look to my right, and the sign says:
Tonight, the Globe of Death is open!
A print featuring motorcycles in the background.
Cool.
Grandma walked through the gate a few minutes ago and told me to wait outside, but I wanted to see the circus. I’ve heard so much about it and never had the chance to be here.
The grass is slightly damp from the rain earlier, and it’s getting my new sandals wet. I grin as I peek behind a curtain, captivated by the aerial gymnastics act and the lady’s effortless movements.
She wraps the silk around her legs, spinning easily in the air.
I’ve always wanted to give that a try. It looks so liberating.
I would probably fall flat on my face, but I can always hang on to it like a little monkey with my legs.
