’Come as you are,’ he said. Somehow, it didn’t seem wholly appropriate to obey that statement. Not when they were meeting somewhere unusual so that Evan could give her some sort of surprise. Leah may not have given as much care to her appearance as other women, before or during the apocalypse, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t still a woman who liked to look nice for someone she cared about. So, she opted to wear something that was a little dressy, while still being casual.
Her day had been spent without him, but up until evening had come, she’d spent the time with Marigold, alternately doing craft activities with the girl and tidying up the room on the opposite side of the hall, which would eventually be turned into a playroom.
Now, with Marigold settled in with her babysitter for a few hours, all that remained was for Leah to go to the location where her boyfriend told her to meet him. What could possibly be so special about meeting near one of the walls of the prison? She quickly dismissed the idea that it could be a setup for the camping activity they’d talked about a few days ago. That didn’t really count as a surprise since she already knew about it and, besides, he’d told her he had a surprise planned before he went on the supply trip.
It was another warm night, the sky mostly clear, except for the few clouds that weren’t thick enough to promise rain just yet. The moon was bright, lighting her path almost better than the candle she held in her hand. Only when Leah was out scouring for supplies did she bother with an actual flashlight. Preserve the batteries for when they were really necessary, otherwise use candles; that was her thought process.
When the mural came into view, illuminated by strings of Christmas lights and a few lanterns, Leah felt herself smiling. She came to a stop a few yards away, just outside the circle of light so that she could admire the full effect of the artwork. Evan was nowhere in sight, but she suspected he was nearby. Somewhere.
“It’s beautiful,” she said to the night, her eyes flicking about for any sign of the artist. “But I’d expect no less from you. Where are you?”