Camille gestured with her hand in a circular motion
“Turn around and face the wall.”
Will looked confused.
“Just do it.”
He shrugged and repositioned himself on the couch accordingly. His eyes scanned the numerous pictures pinned to the wall. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to their contents or placement. Many had frayed edges as though they’d been torn out hastily. He cleared his throat to speak.
“Have you been here for a while?”
He studied the bright, Day-Glo colors of the print closest to him. An image of a swimming pool under a cloudless desert sky looked back at him. There was something uncanny about it. He read the text printed across the bottom.
“*David Hockney*.”
The picture wasn’t exactly level. There was handwriting scrawled illegibly in the white border, and what looked to be thumbprints of smeared paint on the tacks in the corners.
“Yeah, several years now.”
She got up, walked to the bookshelf and plucked a large hardcover from a row of books, leaving an empty gap where it had been.
“The location isn’t great, kinda out in the sticks, but I like the light… and the building cost practically nothing.”