Paint the Town, Dove

Chapter Five

Ryden

“What pieces can you break, when nothing’s left? Which pieces were broken? All I see’s red.”

Arc a curious interviewer, all smiles, knowing I’d smile back because the cameras were now rolling.

Composure.

Smile.

Laugh.

Smile.

Smile. Smile. SMILE.

Abe Turner hasn’t seen your real smile. That smile was reserved for the people who mattered, those I mattered to. No, this smile was the one my mother taught me unwillingly. The smile she fabricated for so long it grew underneath her face… underneath her joy.

She forgot her smile, but I didn’t. Now, I just replicated the one she wore all too well.

As long as he thinks I’m smiling.

How does a bad man know the difference?