*Abram's POV* I had stayed in the study for days, turning over books and old paintings, consumed in thought. The dusty tapestry of curtains billowing in the wind of the slightly cracked window. The thick material of the curtain, obscuring some of the late evening sun, and the sky that's becoming a multitude of coral, pinks and orangey hues. The sunlight no longer bothers me, having become tolerant of it for decades now, but I have no desire to look at the sun. I run a finger along the large painting on the wall, my finger trailing the delicate curve of Elsie's throat. Beautiful. I sigh. Beautiful. But not alive, not here. No painting could ever capture the essence of the woman I loved. The dew of her skin, the way the angles of her face caught the light of lanterns and candles in dim rooms, the harmony of her heartbe
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