She walked into her studio, finding the door shut but not locked. Inside the studio the smell of fresh paint was thick, thicker still from being closed up. She left the door open as she hit the lights and looked around at the canvases with her hands going to her mouth.
She didn't remember any of these.
Therewereseveralcanvases, eachone looking like it'd been drawn by a different person. She didn't know the meaning of any of them, except for the fact that she was absolutely, positively horrified.
She pushed past him to run to the alley and vomit after she looked at the one of the woman, the little girl, and the guitar.