Chapter 13: To Repeat to Start Over

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Roxanna arrives at her apartment and flops down on her couch. She has come to the realization that she's become nothing but a background character in her own life. She wonders how she hadn't realized for the past year and a half. Then again she questions whether it had been like this for much longer and never stopped to think about it. She's unable to make out a single memory of her enjoying herself in her adult life. All she does is eat, write columns, do interviews and sleep which in itself is quite tedious.

Suddenly her life doesn't feel all that thrilling and enjoyable as she once thought. Now starting to feel like a repetitive existence. "So you finally stopped deluding yourself." Her inner voice says matter factly. "For once I agree with you." She's stymied as to when her life had become so vapid. She picks herself up off the couch deciding to head to bed. Roxanna is not sure where she should even start with finding back that enjoyment she once had.

Lucas on the other hand lays in his bed pacing circles in his mind. He questions why he didn't just tell Roxanna that he can't grant her access to the gallery. Now thinking of ways to keep Marcel away from the gallery long enough so she can look around, take a few pictures and leave. Lucas remembers the last time someone snuck in the gallery and it didn't end well. Not to mention the possibility of Roxanna and Marcel running into each other. It's obvious she still wants to interview him, so she'll probably ask him right there and then. Another note, he still hadn't told Marcel about all this, how would he explain then? He tries shaking it out of his thoughts until the morning.

However he ends up tossing and turning in bed while Celine is fast asleep beside him. He groans wishing he had whatever sedative she naturally produces. The possibilities keep running through his head as he groans in frustration.

Marcel stands by a large tank waiting for Roxanna. He wonders if the change in scenery will affect whether she shows up or not. Though he ponders another thing as Lucas has been acting weird when he came back from an engagement. By the looks of how he was dressed he thought that he was going on a date. Usually when that happens Lucas would tell him the details of how it went. Whether he wanted to hear it or not, but he was rather quiet, almost avoiding the topic. Marcel was lost in thought not realizing a seal sneaking up to the glass behind him.

Roxanna arrives shortly after, she is surprised to find that the space had changed this time to an aquarium. Large walls of glass and blue water, light streaking down like a projector refracting into ripples. Ropes of kelp dancing along the water as stingray and smaller colorful fish swim by. Beds of sand and small coral along the floor bed. Not to mention her outfit having changed to a V neck front belted jeans dress with lantern sleeves over her arms and camera around her neck.

Walking down a tunnel of glass turtles and schools of fishes swimming overhead. She took a few pictures, amazed and saw Marcel standing by one of the rails in front of a tank. He seemed to be lost in thought Roxanna held up her camera and zoomed in on him noticing that he's covered in paint splotches.

Taking the picture she walks over to him, "How are you surrounded by water and covered with paint?" Roxanna says, astonished wondering where he could have gotten the paint from.

Marcel now aware of her looks over at her confused. "What paint are you talking about?"

"The ivory splotches, say were you using yourself as the canvas." Roxanna asks half jokingly and curious.Not really going to put it past him.

Marcel takes a moment to process what she said for a moment. He looks at his hands and finally understands. "Oh, you're talking about these." Marcel says.

"Yeah, how you manage to do it every time is a mystery to me." Roxanna says wondering how he manages to make the same patterns every time.

"Sorry to tell you this, but these are all natural." Marcel says finding it funny how she hadn't realized up until now.

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