SONDER

2

Still agonizing over the fact that I didn't get Nikolai's number, I let out a groan as I open my locker to look for my dress. But much to my dismay the spare dress I have is a sensuous dress.

It's a black dress, a little too showy behind, the cut just above my ankle and the straps looks like it can't hold up much. Luckily the straight cut top covered my cleavage properly. But the slit at the side that reaches till my hips looked too revealing and is beyond outside my comfort.

I can't really complain l, the event is going to start soon and my apartment is 30 minutes away from here, it's my fault for bringing this as a spare. I just have to suck it up. It was a gift from Anika, I never had a chance to wear it and now I see why I was avoiding it and chucked it inside my locker.

Slipping off my coffee stained dress I wipe down my chest and my shoes which had little spots of sticky coffee. I only had a few minutes left before guests comes flooding in the gallery.

You'll be just fine Lily. A mantra I've repeated continuously in my head for 4 years.

Luckily I got a sheer cropped black cardigan that helps in covering my upper back and arms that felt cold due to the temperature around the gallery. Finishing up and checking my self out in the mirror, I notice how low the back was which almost reveals my bum.

I let out a defeated sigh. It's now or never.

I walk out of the locker room, and see some of my batch mates walking towards their work, while some are already standing near their pieces. I get several stares, making my body break in a cold sweat— well, don't they look displeased.

The tip of my fingers begin to feel cold, a usual reaction I get in public. Instinctively, I grip onto my wrist as I walk towards my sculpture.

After reaching my work I straighten my back and ready my self as the doors open allowing the guest to enter the gallery. The juniors also began flooding in as they were responsible for taking care of the refreshments, this is also an opportunity for them to be able to observe, for future references.

As the event goes on, benefactors walked around with champagne flutes as they stare or pass by student's artworks. A few passed by my area as I give out a friendly smile only to the women. The looks men gave me never went unnoticed, I feel cold sweats form on my back as I grip my wrist tighter.

"What do you think John?" A woman near her 40s asked as she stare at my sculpture, she stood with a man holding a tablet taking notes behind her.

My sculpture is a torso with no head, it showcases a man holding onto a large butterfly's wings, while his other hand hugs a cage. Other butterflies swarms his cage but doesn't go in; or can't, the cage wasn't for them and never will be. It was only for that one butterfly, that didn't fight and accepted its fate.

The man named John took a glance and stared. "It looks gut-wrenching."

My stomach drops.

"In what way?" The woman asked.