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Sadie paused a moment before rounding the corner.
She'd already visited Bolstone Road a couple of times that morning. The street had been empty both tries. But when she'd returned the third time, she heard the hiss of paint spraying against the wall and realised it was finally happening.
With a deep breath in, she stepped round the corner. Sure enough, a young man crouched in front of the half-painted wall, a mask once again covering his face.
Sadie paused for a moment to study him. His dark hair had been pulled up into a half-up ponytail, revealing the underside had been dyed blonde and two black rings at the top of his left ear. He didn't seem to have noticed her. His attention was focused on the wall, the expression in his narrow eyes so intense it went beyond concentration, almost like he was dreaming. There was something a little eerie about it, Sadie mused, how he seemed both completely present and completely absent at the same time.
Sadie's gaze moved to the painting. She'd hoped for those wildflowers again, another reassurance she hadn't imagined the whole thing. But it looked like he was drawing a portrait this time. The outline of a figure had already been traced out in dark, silvery lines. She watched him go over the figure in colour, interlocking blue, grey and purple bleeding up the figure's body.
"No birds this time?" Sadie asked.
Avel jumped. He turned slowly to look at her, pulling his mask down over his face. The dim spring light made his pale skin look almost white, the freckles dusting his face and neck like early snowfall.
"What?"
"I saw your art down on Gerrard Street," Sadie said.
"Ah." He held her eyes for a moment longer, shoulders relaxing. In the light, Sadie could see they were actually blue, soft and clear like sunlight on glass. "So you stalked me here?"
"Your information's on the internet." Sadie shrugged. "Take it up with the 87 Streets administration."
A smile flickered over his mouth. "The perils of self-promotion, I suppose," he said. "Any particular reason you came by, or...?"
Sadie bit her lip, eyes flicking back to the half-completed painting. Now was the time to explain everything: the lark, the rocks, the flowers. How she couldn't identify any of them, and then suddenly she saw his painting and for the first time everything clicked.
But when she opened her mouth, she heard herself saying, "I just never see anyone working on these. Like, street art just pops up everywhere. But you don't see who does it or anything."
Avel nodded thoughtfully. "Most street art is done by ghosts," he said, without missing a beat. He glanced at her, that quick, hesitant smile flicking over his face again.
Sadie smirked. "You look pretty solid to me."
"I said most, didn't I?" Avel replied. He turned back to his work, spraying highlights to the figure's arm. Out of nowhere, she was reminded of when she'd watch Etta do the same, late at night in her dorm room, bringing her sketches to life with a few simple shadows.
