A homeless thief breaks into a house that has nothing worth stealing - except for the heart of a lonely man who is obsessed with time.
*****
Blake has been living on the streets for...
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-Blake-
I spent the whole Friday morning trying to find an art dealer for Jordan's paintings. There weren't many of them in the city, and by the time Mrs. Simmons came to pick me up, I had met with them all. They all had praised Jordan's talent, but none of them didn't seem too keen on taking the paintings of an unknown artist.
"They were interested though," I sighed after telling Mrs. Simmons the bad news. "How is Jordan?"
"He's really anxious, but he told me not to call you," she said.
"Anxious?" I repeated in horror.
"He can't concentrate, and he had to take sedatives to prevent a panic attack," she spoke with a heavy voice.
Mrs. Simmons was driving a little too fast, and she was clearly anxious too. I leaned my head back and cursed myself. I made Jordan feel uncomfortable. For nothing. I hadn't even found an art dealer, so it all had been just a waste of time.
"I thought I could help..." I sighed in frustration. "I guess I'm not as good as I thought..."
"You are doing great already. And I appreciate your effort, I really do. Don't be so hard on yourself," Mrs. Simmons said sternly.
I grit my teeth together and shook my head. I was disappointed with myself like I always was if I couldn't get the job done. Luckily, I was too stubborn to give up. Without even noticing it, I started to think of another way to get what I wanted instead of falling in misery and self-pity.
And soon enough I found another solution.
"How many customers do you have?" I asked.
"Around fifty. Why?"
"And they all can afford cleaning services. How about your husband's clinic?" I asked.
"I – I'm not sure," Mrs. Simmons said with a frown. "Why are you asking?"
"How about we throw a party or something? Invite all your customers for a fancy gathering or whatever rich people do. We can try to sell the paintings on our own," I said, feeling excited again.
"A gathering? I don't know if we can afford such a thing..." Mrs. Simmons said quietly.
"Okay, then we think of something else, but we can do it ourselves. We don't need an art dealer for that," I said.
Mrs. Simmons was quiet for a moment before she nodded. "I think you're right. My husband could take some of the paintings to his clinic, so people would see them. He has a big waiting room in there."
"That's great!" I said with a smile. "See? We don't need any help."
I was mostly trying to convince myself, but I did feel better. Right until I remembered that I had abandoned Jordan for the day.
