“You can draw as many bridges as you want,” I said, kissing his forehead.

“I bought a fresh block of thick watercolor paper today, and it’s waiting in your room.”

He smiled, a small, quiet smile that lit up his soft face, before turning back to his glass of water.

I walked down the quiet hallway to my bedroom and left the door open behind me.

On the made bed lay my pressed dark judicial suit and a crisp white collared shirt.

I went over to the mahogany desk in the corner and unlocked the deep bottom drawer.