I almost giggled. ‘Not an artist…an art student,’ I said. ‘I came up here to try to get the projects done that I need for my senior year prese...tation. We do projects at the start and the end of the year.’ ‘I see,’ she said. ‘Who are you studying under?’ ‘My professor is Phillip Whitlow,’ I replied. ‘Tough, demanding, but very supportive. I like his style and his manner, even though, on occasion, I have considered homicide.’ She laughed, a beautiful sound, like a spring rain on a window. ‘I know. The pen was a twin to the one he used, only with a purple body, while his was encased in blue. He had kissed her on the door step, pointing her in the direction of the fashion district and making sure she knew where she was going before excusing himself and heading in the opposite direction, towards the station and the trains to Dijon and the parts he needed to fix Monique’s dress maker. Greg was going to meet Samantha at the station in the early afternoon and Samantha and Monique were going to. More

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