“N-no I. I don’t think so.” he said shakily, allowing her to touch his face, checking to see if he was all right. Her concern touched him; it meant she hadn’t been hurt at all. It had just been his work. All of his work… twenty six pieces, all gone. Poof. “It. The gallery, w-where my work is?” Jack asked quietly.
“Th. There was a fire. It’s all gone. Poof.” he lifted his hands shakily, his hands white as his face was. “All… All gone.”
Her hands stopped moving, her eyes widened at his words. A fire? Oh god..Did she..But she doesn’t even know him!
“Oh my god..Jack…Oh god I’m so sorry, love!” she cries, pulling him in closer, shutting her eyes and wishing this was all just a bad dream. She knew his work couldn’t be replicated or replaced. He had worked so hard, she was sure, on all of those pieces and they were gone in an instant.
He was so pale, so scared. It broke her heart to see him this way!
“No one was hurt that… that was good…” he whispered as her arms were back around him and he was reminded she was safe, she was here, and not stolen away again by Psycho or by Hot Flash. “I’m so glad.” Jack added, “R-really I am…” but his heart, his artists heart, was screaming in agony.
All of those paintings had been done over the years, one dating back over ten years. But they were gone. Only prints left, not the originals. Save for the one of Katelynn reading, that one had been a copy hanging in the gallery. The real one was hanging on the wall in her own apartment, untouched, real.
“T-they’re compensating me th-the damage… the loss…”
Jack Maple 