The Richelieu Library rises before me, majestic and intimidating. My stomach knots.
The staff greet me as I come in. After all my comings and goings these past few days, they’ve started to recognize me. Their familiarity steadies me a little.
Visitors begin to trickle in. Most head straight for the reading rooms, ignoring the exhibition galleries.
I continue on to the Mansart Gallery.
My thirty paintings are hung, perfectly aligned. The sight should fill me with pride.
Instead, doubt crashes down on me.
Maybe I should have done things differently. My watercolors look too delicate next to the oils, despite their vibrant colors. Is the contrast interesting, like I imagined—or just confusing?
I should have chosen a single medium. Been more coherent.
Am I really answering the question? Movement and Persistence Through Time. Is the connection clear? Or is it only obvious to me, because I know my own reasoning?
Calm down, Sam. Breathe.
I pull out my notes and reread my presentation text for the tenth time this morning. The words blur. This is not the moment to panic. I start my breathing exercises, trying to regulate the stress.
Deep inhale.
Long pause.
Slow exhale.
I did the best I could. That’s all that matters.
I wonder if Alexander will be able to come. He told me he would, but I know things are tense at MatchMapping right now. He has a crucial meeting today with the board of directors, from nine to eleven. In two days, he has to announce the first post-IPO results to the shareholders. From what I understand, he’ll have to present the bad news as well as the recovery plan.
He’s completely overwhelmed.
Maybe I shouldn’t expect so much from him.
At noon, my anxiety spikes.
My phone remains stubbornly silent. I check it every five minutes, just in case I missed a notification.
Will he keep his promise?
Don’t be selfish, Sam. He has a company to save.
Twelve-oh-five. My phone vibrates.
I grab it so fast I almost drop it.
Alexander: I’m leaving the office. Traffic is heavy. GPS says I’ll arrive around 1:00 p.m.
My heart leaps in my chest. He’s coming.
I type a reply quickly.
Sam: That’s great! I’m waiting for you.
I reread the message. Not very mature. I delete it.
Sam: Thank you.