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Microsoft Word - 2014_Great_American_Fiction_Contest-The_Talent_Scout-by_Christine_Venzon.docx

Katrina, he salvaged driftwood around what was left of his studio. In each piece, he wanted to bring out what’s already there. Like here. In the cracks he saw feathers. These hollows, maybe from termites, the eyes.” He fingered the piece, brow furrowed, then handed it back. “He finds something beautiful in something ugly. It’s an artist’s revenge.” “I never thought of art as revenge.” “You had to be there.” The amber flecks in his eyes now seemed a patina, antiquing the sepia pools. She nodded to the table set with trays of food. “Have you tried the goat’s milk feta on the sesame crackers? Don’t be shy. What doesn’t get eaten just gets thrown out.” ❊❊❊ She didn’t expect to see him again, but didn’t mind when he stopped by the gallery a few days later. He was sticking flyers from an auto repair shop on car windshields on the street and saw her in the window. He thought he’d say hi, and thanks. “I was just wandering that night, wondering what the hell I was doing here. Talking to you, it picked me up. I don’t know how.” She shrugged. “Just supporting the arts. Next time I’ll save you the leftovers.”


Microsoft Word - 2014_Great_American_Fiction_Contest-The_Talent_Scout-by_Christine_Venzon.docx
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