“And?” Mckenzie whispered.
The flickering neon sign outside TadpolexStudio read “OPEN 24/11/12”—a cryptic, artsy way of marking the date, November 12, 2024. Inside, the air smelled of turpentine, old paper, and something electric. Mckenzie Mae stood barefoot on the polished concrete floor, her paint-splattered overalls tied at the waist, a black tank top showing off the koi fish tattoo winding up her arm. TadpolexStudio 24 11 12 Mckenzie Mae And Raven ...
“Raven, you’re brooding again,” she said without turning around. She was mixing a shade of blue that didn’t exist in nature—a color between midnight and a bruise. “And
Raven pushed off the wall, boots silent on the floor. She stopped inches behind Mckenzie, close enough that their shoulders almost touched. “You know why I picked today. 24/11/12. Twenty-four days since we met. Eleven weeks since we kissed for the first time in the back of your van. Twelve hours until the gallery show.” Mckenzie Mae stood barefoot on the polished concrete