Chapter 33

While he fumbled around in one of the storage cart's drawers, where he seemed to keep all of his sculpting tools, I flipped through the clean, rigid pages of Oris, which made me feel as if I was looking at a class handout of an Economic MBA program instead of an Arts one. How did anyone not see how cold and boring to look at this magazine was? How self-important and—

My thought dissolved. The dark emotional turmoil that'd been roaring inside of me before returned. I read the article's title stretching under my nose with a thorn in my chest.

WHY PEOPLE FALLING INTO COMA

MAY HAVE ITS ROOTS IN ART

By Comus