There was no tension in the silence, only understanding. The room was infused with a soft kind of energy. A glow of mutual respect, caring, and something else. Dare I even call it love? I painted like that, in silence. The sun moved down the sky and the shadows in my painting moved to. They were fluid, almost surreal as if the viewer could hear them whispering. Something was different now. Zoë felt it, I felt it. She looked at me differently now. She was waiting. Waiting for me to finish, waiting for me to make my move. When the last bush stroke was laid down, I nearly dropped my brush and pallet. I didn’t run to her, but moved with a fluid motion as though pulled by some force beyond my control. I stopped just in front of her without touching her. Now we looked into each others eyes and calibrated out breaths to one another. The air was thick with anticipation, I could feel our souls being drawn toward one another. I leaned toward her, taking her in my arms, wrapping myself around. The man looked around cautiously. Satisfied that it was clear, he withdrew a cell phone from one of his pockets and flipped it open. Jamus strained against the breeze to hear the conversation. He jumped silently to the next rooftop over, trying to get closer. A moment later the man in the suit clicked the phone shut and furiously kicked at an empty cola can, sending it sailing across the lot. The man flipped the phone open again and dialed. ‘It’s time. Bring them in,’ he said forcefully before closing the phone and stuffing it back in his pocket. He stood guarding the door with his hands clasped before him. Jamus leaped silently up onto the roof and watched carefully. Twenty minutes later, a silver Hummer pulled up to the structure and two men slid out and opened the side door. One of the men leaned inside and yanked a passenger to the concrete. Fiery red tendrils of hair covered the woman’s face. She flicked her head back and spat defiantly. ‘I’m really gonna enjoy ripping your.
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