Exhibition

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Tara

I fiddled with my hair nervously as I walked around the room. These pictures were parts of me. I was showing  people things that meant so much to me.

I switched on my phone, connected it to the speakers and closed my eyes as Ben Howard began to sing softly. I thought back to driving in the car with Zeke and hearing him sing along. I took a shaky breath and opened my eyes again.

I was so scared. I walked over and opened the doors. People started to spill in. I smiled at Dan as he gave me an enthusiastic thumbs up.

I can do this.

I just wish Zeke was here.

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Zeke

I parked the car and raced into the art building. The place was packed full of people. I peered into doors and couldn't find Tar. I climbed the stairs and heard people walking past making approving noises about what they'd just seen.

I jogged to the door that seemed to have a steady flow of people and peeked over their heads. There she was.

Tar. Her red hair pulled high in a bun. She was wearing jeans and a fitted black shirt. It was classic Tar and she looked radiant.

People pushed behind me so I joined the crowds and walked in. We stopped at the first picture and I stared in amazement.

It was us at the beach. The high waves, the sands, the grass blowing. There was a stormy grey sky. We stood at the shore and looked out holding hands.

I moved to the next picture.

It was the picture Tar had started at the cottage. It felt like I was there. I could almost smell the pine.

I quickly looked around the room and felt my stomach drop. They were all of us.

Running.

Standing in the rain outside Poppy's house.

Me looking down at Tar with concern in the doorway on the day we met.

Tar staring at the brick walls of the main college building.

Hugging in the stairwell at her flat.

I felt myself getting moved along as I looked at the pictures in amazement. Tar was hugely talented. I saw the last wall and felt tears form. She had painted the picture of my Dad and I that I kept by my bed. It felt so real.

There was Tar and my mum covered in flour and hugging.

The picture of the man smiling out to everyone. He had red hair and big smokey eyes. It was Tar's Dad,I realised in amazement. She looked just like him.

Someone walked past me and pushed a leaflet into my hand.

"This is Tara Phillips' work," he informed me. "She's hugely talented. People from America have flown over to ask her to do shows for their galleries."

I nodded mutely and gripped the leaflet in my hand.

America.

I was too late.

I looked at the leaflet and saw Tar's picture smiling up at me. There was a brief piece about her then Tar spoke about her paintings.

"These paintings are my heart and soul. They are the worst and best of me. The people who helped create these memories for me are those who mean the most to me in the world. To not have them would make me hollow. They showed me how to love and be loved. I will always be grateful. They helped this girl pull down the bricks she had worked so hard to keep around her."

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