Alba Back

Brittle Sorries

Georgia Thompson stares at the numbers on her computer screen with a trepidatious thrill running through her blood. Her buyer had wanted an existential horror piece, which had been heady and strange to paint, far outside of her comfort-zone. But the buyer had promised twenty-thousand dollars. Exactly enough to round out her savings; exactly enough to finally, actually pay for college tuition. So, Georgia had painted like her future depended on it (because it quite literally had).