Her face looked pretty and innocent where Rose's projected a confident, knowing sexuality, and yet there was something similar about them, something I...couldn't put my finger on."Is she a relative?" I asked."Not exactly, no," said Rose, looking at the painting withobvious distaste. "No, what she is is a reminder, a warning, about being sweet and passive and accepting your fate withouta murmur." Oh," I said. "Nice painting, though. Where did you acquire it?" "It came along with me," she said,. “Hey.” I pulled out my earbuds and stood up, shoes almost slipping in the glistening pool of sweat that had formed beneath the machine. “I’m sorry.” I gasped between words, my body still burning oxygen from the race. “I left the place in a bit of a mess...”I felt a bead of sweat slide down my bare chest. As it dripped I thought I glimpsed Violet’s eyes following its trail, but when I looked back her eyes were on mine. I dismissed it as wishful thinking. Last night had really screwed with my. More

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