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One sudden horrific moment shifts the entire trajectory of Atlas and Errol's lives, handicapping both young men in ways they could never have expected. A sculptor without his sight, and a piani...
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"I still don't understand why you chose this dump," I heard Nyra whisper more to herself than me. Sometimes she forgot how well I was always listening in.
"I like the quiet," I answered simply, placing more clay onto the spinning wheel. I heard her shift again in her seat, probably wanting to help out with this process... but she knew better. Nyra knew this was something I needed to do for myself, for many reasons.
"You can get the quiet anywhere!" She responded in that same frustrated tone. It was the tone Nyra always used with me after she had to help move all this stuff one studio to the next. "What was wrong with the last place?"
I thought back to my previous location on Chestnut Ln. The studio I once swore to Nyra would be the final spot to settle into. "It was still too large," I explained to her now, "too well known. I wanted a place that was tucked away. A place with no limited hours for work, and no one to disturb me." That last part was directed at Nyra as I turned my head to the direction I had heard her voice come from. The scoff she gave me let me know she got the message.
"If it wasn't for me, you'd be sitting on the floor of this studio playing with play dough."
That made me chuckle. "You act like I couldn't of just hired movers," I quipped back.
"Well you could've, but who else would've handled all these supplies and art pieces with such care?" She replied. That made me laugh even harder.
"You broke three pots, a pottery wheel, and the sculpture that was once in our city mayor's office. Should we circle back on what your definition of care is?" I heard the slight tapping of Nyra's feet besides me as she worked on a quick reply to that. The clay felt cold between my fingers as I slowly started to mold it against the platform.
"Okay so if I crunch the numbers, three moves and only three different things broken is not that bad. Not that bad at all," Nyra finally rushed out.
"Are you taking into account all three of those pots you broke?" I questioned.
"Technically I said three different things. Since those three pots are still part of the same category of items, those only count as one." This was her less than ideal response. This was what she settled on. Her defining moment.
Tell that to my manager, I almost spoke my thoughts aloud. According to him, each pot Nyra shattered was now worth almost seven grand. Of course that was information I wasnt telling Nyra, from fear she would have a heart attack if she knew the figures.
The damage had been done anyways, and it wasn't like Nyra had the money to pay me back. I just chalked it up to a very expensive moving fee, since she had helped me out with a lot.
"I don't think that's how it works," was all I managed to reply with. I always felt the grins Nyra gave me, and knew she must've been giving me one right now.
