On the back of the panel was a pen and ink drawing by Berthe Morisot of a young boy’s face. Something about the expression on the dark-haired lad wa... mesmerizing. It was a simple piece, yet I never grew tired of gazing at it and trying to imagine what was going through the boy’s mind. Sasha stood behind me, putting his hands on my shoulders. ‘This is one of my favorites, too,’ he said softly. A startling realization occurred to me. ‘Sasha, look! I swear that boy looks like you must have looked. "Did it shut down?" "No, we just haven't… had time." A faraway look eclipsed her freckled cheeks. "We love each other dearly, I just need to accept that the businesses he starts are his mistresses." Something unspoken passed between us and I became excited at the longing in her eyes as she set them on mine. She shook her head quickly and changed the subject, but the chink in her armour had been revealed: loneliness. Maybe the pair of them were usually frisky, but the lead-up to the launch had. More

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