She’s looking out the window, down onto the street, and as I approach I just see the sides of buildings. But down below, in what I’m guessing is usually a parking lot, there’s an exhibit. I notice now that there’s a white sheet of paper attached to the window, with the exhibit name—“Aerial Splendor”—and artist listed. And in the lot is the biggest chalk drawing I’ve ever seen. It stretches from corner to corner of the parking lot, which is corded off. It features two giant horses, and even from this distance they’re insanely intricate. The scale is incredible. And for the first time in two months I’m not squinting to make out details, or to really see something the way it’s supposed to be seen. Maybe this is my problem. It’s not that art isn’t my thing, I just need a medium that isn’t compromised by my vision.

“How do they even do that?” Olivia’s voice is full of awe.

“I’m guessing the artist drew it small-scale first, and then transferred it using a grid.”

“Wow, that’s crazy.”

I nod, but I can’t take my eyes off of what lies below me. Maybe I need to think outside of my usual 16 × 20 paper. It’s so crazy, it just might work.

OLIVIA

This is crazy. I just walked through a maze of iridescent curtains. Thousands and thousands of tiny strings, fashioned with mirrored circles and iridescent squares, all hanging down around us like a pulsing, flowing current that we’re caught up in. I’ve never seen art like this—the kind that hangs over you, wraps around you, engulfs all of your senses, and burns itself into your brain. It’s intoxicating and transporting—I feel like we’re different people in a magical place. That seems to be the norm for places I go with Aiden.

“The artist’s guide said to run,” Aiden says, and before the words have left his mouth he has me by the hand and the bejeweled pieces are streaking past us like stars outside a spaceship. When we reach the end we’re still holding hands, gazing at the iridescent tunnel behind us.

“Sorry,” Aiden says, and he drops my hand.

I’m not sure if he’s talking about the running or the hand-holding, but I tell him no problem, because it isn’t. That was amazing.

“The artist’s notes are really important with this kind of art,” Aiden explains. “They tell you how to interact with it.”

There’s a reverence in Aiden’s voice, and it makes me smile.