“Nash leans forward and cups my cheek with his hand. He cocks his head slightly as he considers me. “Don’t do that. Don’t ever make it out like you’re less. Because you’d be gravely mistaken.” — M. Leighton Copy Share Image
“As I’m debating running for the exit, Nash leans down to whisper at my ear. “Is something wrong?” “I feel like the only splash of color in an abstract painting.” “You are the splash of color. But there’s nothing wrong… — M. Leighton Copy Share Image
