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palettes went into a small closet by the window. I choose which pieces to show him, and stacked the other ones away. Tuesday morning was spent trying to find the right outfit. I must have changes at least five times. It was stupid, I know. But whatever his intentions were, I wanted to look good. The last thing I put on was black pants and a red tunic with wide arms and high neckline. I didn’t want to seem like I was trying to hard. I tried to look professional. I even gathered my hair in a knot and applied light make-up. Nothing over-the-top.
     
    My nerves hit when the caller buzzed. My hand was actually shaking as I pushed the intercom on the living room wall.
    ‘ Yes?’ At least I still had my voice.
    ‘ Miss Nord, you have some visitors. A Mr Petrelli and Miss Turner.’
    ‘Thank you Frank, please send them up.’
    I stood rubbing my hands while waiting for the knock. On the way to the door I glance in the hallway mirror, and pushed back a stray hair. I took a deep breath before opening, only to swallow it as I open the door and saw him. He was even more beautiful than I remembered. I cleared my voice.
    ‘ Mr Petrelli, nice to see you again.’
    I meet his eyes, challenging him to say something about our last encounter .
    ‘ Good morning Miss Nord. It’s good to see you again.’
    He doesn’t kiss my hand this time, but direct me to the woman beside him. ‘This is my assistant Anna Turner.’
    I wasn’t sure I liked Anna. She was smiling, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Anna Turner was a short, middle-aged woman with black hair tied to a hard knot in the back. She was wearing at black skirt and white blouse, and gave a strict impression. Her shake was firm, and she scared me a little. Other than the usual ‘How are you’ phrase, she remained silent and in the background.
    ‘ Would you like something to drink?’ I asked courteously as we moved through the hallway. My mind was counting the limited options I had, and I was smacking myself inside for not buying some lemonade or soda yesterday. It was probably a good thing Christopher turned down the offer.
    ‘ Thank you, that’s not necessary. I am sorry to say we are in some hurry, it seemed I was booked for another meeting today, so we don’t have much time.’ He glanced at Anna, who dropped her eyes toward the floor. Somehow he seemed annoyed with her.
    We go trough the living room and straight to the studio. I was kind of nervous to show him the pieces, not quite comfortable with other people assessing my work. My workroom is wall to wall with the kitchen, and is the biggest room in the house besides the living room. Almost the whole inner wall consisted of large windows, but with a boring view against the neighbour apartment block. I usually keep the curtains closed, the big triple light bulb in the ceiling gave me enough light. The floor was covered in brown paper. I didn’t think B&B would appreciate permanent paint stains in their apartment. I had three easels in the room, and paintings both on them and on the floor leaned against them. I let both Christopher and Anna pass me by the door. She goes to a corner and stand there with a notebook in hand, while Christopher walks around, looking at each and every one. He waves me over, pointing at a big blue painting, with a trace of mountain edged, similar to the one he apparently bought.
    Some text was written along the line marking the border between rock and ocean. He read it out loud:
    ‘If you get far enough away you'll be on your way back home. That sounds familiar. Tom Waits?’
    ‘Yes,’ I said, surprised that he knew that.
    ‘Is this from the same series?’
    I nodded, knowing he was referring to the one at the exhibition.
    ‘But this has text on it, I don’t think the other one has.’
    ‘It did, but only one word, and it was in small letters.’
    ‘Really? I didn’t notice. What did it say?’
    ‘Origin.’
    ‘But you named the painting Ice ?’
    ‘Yes, May-Ann insisted we named