Chapter 81

Savana's POV As I waited for the painting to dry off, my mind couldn't help but travel to the time I was still starting to paint. I submitted my works to one of the famous galleries in New York when they asked me to show them in person because they only saw my work online. I remembered the last time my art was reviewed by an old man with a black and long beard, wearing a black suit. I was sitting across from him at the long rectangular table watching him as he checked my portfolio. ‘‘What is this?'' the old man asked, showing me the big butterfly I painted. ‘‘It's a butterfly, Sir…'' I said, coughing in my theist unintentionally. It was pretty obvious what it was. Why did he have to ask? I was wondering why he was looking at the piece as if it was a jigsaw puzzle. Well, I could feel that every part of him was made to intimidate me. ‘‘Of course, I know what it is…'' He said frowning. ‘‘What I want to hear is, why it was walking on the ground. Butterflies do fly, right?'' the rich