Monday morning arrived with gray clouds hanging over the city, leaving the streets damp from the night's rain.
Lila stood in front of her bedroom mirror, fastening the small silver necklace her late mother had once given her. It was the only piece of jewelry she wore every day.
Her eyes drifted to the exhibition flyer still tucked inside her sketchbook.
She sighed.
"I still can't believe Elise did that..."
Part of her wanted to call the organizers and withdraw her sketch.
Another part...
A very small part...
Wondered what it would feel like if someone actually liked her work.
Shaking the thought away, she grabbed her bag and left for work.
The familiar streets slowly came alive around her.
As she walked past the corner bakery, the smell of fresh bread filled the cool morning air.
"Morning, sweetheart!"
Lila smiled immediately.
Outside her flower shop, Mrs. Abigail Carter was arranging colorful bouquets.
She was in her mid-forties, warm-hearted, and seemed to know everyone in the neighborhood.
"Good morning, Mrs. Carter."
The florist held out three white daisies.
"These were left over from yesterday."
"Oh, you don't have to—"
"Nonsense."
She tucked the flowers into Lila's bag.
"A young woman should always have fresh flowers."
Lila laughed.
"Thank you."
As she continued walking, Mrs. Carter watched her disappear into the crowd.
"Such a sweet girl," she murmured.
The bell above the door chimed as Lila stepped into Carver's Fine Art Supplies.
"You're late."
Lila looked up in surprise.
Standing on a ladder while pretending to organize paintbrushes was a young man with messy dark hair and an unmistakable grin.
"I'm two minutes early," Lila replied.
He checked an imaginary watch.
"My mistake."
"Good morning, Noah."
Noah Bennett had worked with Lila for over a year.
He was friendly, endlessly talkative, and believed silence was something to be avoided at all costs.
"You know," he said, climbing down the ladder, "Mr. Carver almost made me organize the charcoal pencils by myself."
"The horror."
"You understand my suffering."
Before Lila could answer, an older voice interrupted.
"If you two are done gossiping..."
They both turned.
Mr. Carver stood behind the counter with folded arms, though the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth ruined any attempt to look stern.
"We open in three minutes."
"Yes, sir," Noah said dramatically.
Lila laughed.
The morning passed quickly.
Customers wandered through the aisles looking for paints, sketchbooks, canvases, and brushes.
Around noon, a nervous university student entered the store carrying a worn sketchbook.
"Excuse me..."
Lila approached with a smile.
"Can I help you?"
"I need watercolor paper."
"I'm studying fine arts."
"My professor said the paper I bought is terrible."
Lila chuckled softly.
"Let's find something better."
The student introduced herself as Sophia Nguyen, and within minutes the two were discussing different paper textures and paint brands.
"You really know your stuff," Sophia said.
"I spend a lot of time around art."
"Do you paint?"
Lila hesitated.
"A little."
"You should show me sometime."
Lila smiled politely.
"Maybe."
She knew she wouldn't.
Across the city...
The top floor of Blackwood Global was as quiet as ever.
Damon sat behind his desk reviewing acquisition reports when Olivia knocked gently.
"Come in."
She placed a slim folder before him.
"Our investigation into the anonymous sketch."
He looked up.
"Anything new?"
"We traced the submission to the Oakridge Community Art Exhibition."
"It was submitted by someone named Elise Harper."
Damon's expression remained unreadable.
"The artist?"
"We're not certain."
"The paperwork suggests Elise submitted it, but several volunteers believe she was submitting it on behalf of another artist."
Damon closed the folder.
"So we're still looking for the real artist."
"Yes, sir."
For reasons he couldn't explain, that answer irritated him more than it should have.
An hour later...
A knock echoed through his office.
Without waiting for permission, the door opened.
"You're working again."
Damon looked up.
An elderly man with silver hair and kind eyes walked inside carrying a wooden cane.
"Grandfather."
Arthur Blackwood smiled warmly.
"I thought I'd find you here."
"I have work."
"You always have work."
Arthur settled into the chair opposite his grandson.
"When was the last time you took a day off?"
"I don't remember."
"Exactly."
Damon closed the file in front of him.
"What brings you here?"
Arthur looked out the enormous windows overlooking the city.
"When I built this company..."
"I believed success meant earning more money."
He smiled sadly.
"It doesn't."
Damon remained silent.
"It means having people to share your life with."
The office grew quiet.
Arthur stood.
"One day you'll understand."
As he reached the door, he paused.
"Oh..."
"The charity exhibition next month."
"I'll be attending."
"I expect you there too."
Then he left.
For the first time all day...
Damon found it impossible to concentrate on the reports before him.
That evening, Lila unlocked her apartment door and immediately noticed a familiar smell.
Cinnamon.
She smiled.
A small container sat outside her door with a handwritten note.
Don't skip dinner again. — Mrs. Holloway
Lila laughed softly.
Her elderly neighbor had somehow noticed she often came home too tired to cook.
Carrying the food inside, Lila walked over to her desk.
Her eyes fell on the exhibition flyer once more.
She slowly opened her sketchbook.
The drawing of the old man feeding birds stared back at her.
"...I hope whoever sees you... smiles."
She whispered the words to herself, never imagining that somewhere across the city, the most powerful man in Blackwood Global had already seen that very sketch...
...and couldn't stop wondering about the anonymous artist behind it.