Loraine studied David’s portfolio, pausing to frown over the photograph of the barn, white paint peeling from its tired sides. He watched her eyes for some sign.
“Your subjects are always something thrown away or given up on.” Her nails were red. Her hair, recently cut and styled.
“Abandoned.” He preferred the word abandoned.
“OK, abandoned. Why?”
He leaned back in the leather chair. “In ten years, these chairs will be worn out, likely sooner.”
She shrugged. “The agency will get replacements.” Continue reading