Out of Focus #SYTYCW15 Top10 Finalist! [COMPLETED]

1| S E C R E T S

Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies.

Wise words. More than just a motto or mantra that Eva Turner could relate to, but her survival strategy. Her lifeline. She'd typed the phrase beneath the edited digital image of scarred hands folded over bent knees, the nails ripped and filthy. A single, blunt finger crooked, inviting you to proceed but at your own caution.

I'll tell you, but you may not like it, he'd said when she'd stopped him that evening for the photograph. Everyone had secrets. Eva was in the business of capturing them. And this man's had been particularly...surprising.

Deleting the phrase, Eva replaced it with: Proceed with Caution. Sat back. Nodded. Yes, that's what she'd call it.

Bleary, she knuckled her eyelids and yawned. Five solid hours of editing was hell on the corneas and a sinus headache threatened to bloom, flashing along the left curve of her brow. The door whispered open at her back and the bright notes of crisp perfume flood the closet-sized space.

"Are you seriously going to spend all day crammed in here?"

"Yeah, I know," Eva sighed, the bones in her neck cracking as she angled her head left then right.

"We got a walk-in that I think is going to bite. Why don't you take this one? A little break from the screen and some client interaction will do you good."

Eva lifted bloodshot eyes to scowl at her best friend and gallery manager. "I thought that's why I hired you?"

"The first smart decision you ever made." Jenelle tousled copper waves, radiant as morning sun wrapped in a cobalt dress. "Now do as I said: get up."

"I'm busy."

"And I'm taking five."

"Son of a..." Eva scowled at her retreating back, fingers drumming against an overburdened desk. Who, she thought, was supposed to be the damn employee? Pushing to her feet, Eva marched out from the back and into the heart of Out of Focus Gallery.

The chemical scent of paint slapped her straight, reminding her for the third time that she should have listened to Jenelle's recommendation of closing up for a couple extra days while the place properly aired out. Well, at least it hadn't chased off patrons from swinging in and exploring.

She'd opted for muted colours, nothing too harsh or ostentatious to take away from the artwork. Her photography. Here, surrounded by bits and pieces of the people she'd captured--connected to them through canvas and secrets-she didn't feel so alone.

Or...exposed.

There was only one person milling about. A woman fixed near the front, lost in a moment of silent reflection. As Eva approached, she took in details.

Long hair hung straight without a kink or wave, more brown than black. She had the curvy frame of a woman who didn't mind carrying around a few extra pounds, especially when they migrated to all the right places, giving a sense of lush femininity. 

She stood hipshot, arms crossed and head tilted to the left, admiring a portrait blown up to the size of a small TV. One of Eva's first and, in truth, one of her most favourite.

An old man's face was just visible in the curved sphere of a beer bottle, a mostly toothless mouth turned up into a guffawing laugh. But the closer his face veered to the thickened ringed curve of dark green glass, that smile transformed from a grin into a wail. A single bead of brew ran along the bend, following the withered cheek like a tear.

One of joy? Sorrow? Eva had left that open to interpretation.

"This one's called: Bottom of the Beer Bottle. He's a character, isn't he?" Eva stood next to her, shoulder to shoulder, in study.