Chapter 115

I shrug, then laugh. “Maybe I should hire you instead. You can be one of our artists and then people’s jobs would be safe.”

“I’m not a good artist.”

“I’ll tell you a secret.” I lean in. “No one really is. That’s what makes it so beautiful.”

“Are you always this happy?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I pick up one of my fried plantains and shove it in my mouth.

“Life can really suck sometimes.”

“Hmm. It can, I suppose. Especially for the ones who lose their jobs when you show up,” I tease.

“Someone will take mine too someday,” he says.

I nod and grab another thin plantain. “The way I see it is, life hands you all these paint colors. You don’t have a choice in using them—they all have to be used. But you choose which ones to paint your immediate surroundings with. Personally, I like to keep the grays in the background. Like little storm clouds in the distance on a summer day.”

He stares at me again in that scrutinizing way, as if he’s trying to make me out.

“Why do you look at me like that?” I as