052 external, shiny things

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052external, shiny things

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external, shiny things

052external, shiny things

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eighteen months later...












The longer Bianca stared at the large-scale ink blot hung up on the wall, she still only saw a penguin in a bowtie playing the trumpet. Or maybe it was a saxophone?

Either way, it was one talented penguin.

"Is that supposed to be art or is it a test?" Bianca questioned, tilting her head with curiosity.

Neelam followed her gaze behind her maroon velvety armchair to the framed painting. Her long, ebony hair was tied into a slick-back ponytail today but she still adorned her usual maxi-skirt, business-casual attire.

When Neelam turned back around, she tapped her pen against the open journal pad resting on her lap, "It depends. What do you see, Bianca?"

"A very suave penguin playing jazz," She answered blankly.

Neelam stared back, unfazed. It was partly why Bianca stuck with this twenty-something-year-old psychologist compared to the older ones who gave her a disapproving look every time she made a joke.

"Well..." Neelam took a long pause. "I've never gotten that response before. Most people say they see a butterfly— sometimes a skull."

"I'm guessing the ones who see the skull are the ones we need to worry about, huh?" Bianca turned on the spot and walked back across the room to the sofa.

"You'd think so," Neelam explained with a small shrug. "So, are we finally going to talk about your week or is there more of my interior decoration you would like to judge?"

"I was going to comment on your dried floral arrangement in that vase but that can wait until the end," Bianca brushed her hand through the air. "But as for my week... yeah, it's been good. I got a haircut, the opening of the exhibit is today— oh yeah, my boyfriend helped me pick out a new car."

"I heard," Neelam smiled at her. "I also received the fifteen text messages and twenty-nine photos you sent me."

Bianca shrugged, "You're welcome."

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