“ When Bram wakes up it is to find Gudrun sitting on the end of his bed, sifting through the many sketches that are strewn about the place. “So,” she says without looking at him, “did you get to dance with your princess last night?” Bram wearily props himself up on one elbow. His head throbs horribly and his eyes feel puffy and sore. He rubs his temples and yawns, tasting the fur on his tongue. “What do you want, Gudrun?” His voice is croaky. He stretches his legs uncomfortably, dismayed to see... how creased and crumpled Perry’s clothes are. “Poor Artist,” says Gudrun, still studying the drawings. She shrugs. “Anyway, now you will see I am right.” “Really? How so?” “I told you a broken heart makes the best art.” She waves a handful of the sketches at him. “These are magnificent.” He looks at them properly now, and even with his slightly blurred vision, he can see that she is right. They are the best he has ever done. He takes one from her gingerly and studies it more closely.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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