Iris
I take a deep breath, fidgeting with the edge of my sleeve as I stand just outside the gallery doors. The space is already packed with people—way more than I expected. Through the glass, I can see photographers, journalists, and what looks like at least a hundred guests milling about with champagne flutes in hand.
“You okay?” Arthur asks, his hand coming to rest on the small of my back.
“There are so many people,” I whisper, and a knot forms in my stomach just from saying it out loud. “I thought it would just be the usual art crowd, maybe a few extra because of… well, us.”
Arthur grimaces apologetically. “I may have underestimated the media interest. Your debut made quite an impression.”
I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not. I want my art to be appreciated fo
