Chris stood in the studio he'd been invited to visit. Photographs of staff and dancers covered almost the entirety of the walls, as in more than one.
He chuckled and shook his head. Hey, he'd never be homesick, looking at all the white dancers up there.
The decoration reminded him of the plans Cathy had had. Kate had, quite rightly, put them on hold; she didn't know the dancers and it would have been weird–but still!
But still...
This felt, a little more like a home. He had it on good authority its first owner wasn't content to just hand control over to one of their family members. The type of person who could see what was fast turning into unrecognised work, not among colleagues maybe, or even the parents.
It hurt, to see most of the kids forget what he'd done for them while he was still there. It felt like he was fading into the walls of the studio.
But he'd done something great, amazing, even.
His phone buzzed with a text.
Time to party.
Two/Three. Sorry it's so short...